


With Age Comes Wisdom

by TheLimeGreenMachine



Series: The Princess and the Dark Overlord [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Child Abuse, Developing Relationship, Entire Cast - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, POV Second Person, Slice of Life, mentions of akane/nidai - Freeform, mentions of hinata/komaeda, really does have a good ending I swear, relationship building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLimeGreenMachine/pseuds/TheLimeGreenMachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's Sonia Nevermind, who has lived in the same house her entire life and has many, many friends. There's Gundam Tanaka, who has lived in a different house for every year of his life and is very, very used to being alone. There's the story of how they meet, grow up, and inevitably become tangled together. And of course there are two sides to every story.</p><p>A non-despair AU where Sonia and Gundam meet as children and watch each other grow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is honest to god the longest fic i have ever written. right now it is august 2014. i started this fic around february 2014. 
> 
> let me tell you some brief things really quick!! this fic switches from sonia to gundams pov back and forth, and it will always tell you. the characters start young, so the characters that sonia and gundam have known the longest will be called their first names (ex, sonia would call nanami "chiaki") but characters they have known for less they will call their last names (ex, both sonia and gundam say "komaeda"). some of those later tags are to be safe but those are things that are in the fic so if you are uncomfy there you go. and yes, sonia is three months older than gundam in this fic!!
> 
> i'll update this thing maybe once or twice a week. this is honestly the most fun i have ever had writing a fic as many of these events were based off of my own life as i was growing up.

 You are Sonia Nevermind, a bright, enthusiastic, and wonderful five year-old little girl, and someone new has just moved in on the block. 

It’s been a while since someone else moved in down here: you kind of know everyone, and everyone knows you, and you take great pride in that. Nobody has moved in since you were four, when a brunette boy with big green eyes moved in across the street from you. But when you come home from kindergarten around noon, there’s a moving truck at the end of the cul-de-sac, and you are immediately curious. Right after you finish your sandwich for lunch you bolt out the front door, excitedly crossing the street to find one of your best friends (one of many) on the sidewalk watching the truck unload. 

She’s just about your age and seems to know a lot of things, things that you didn’t know yourself. You like going over to her house and watching TV with her, because that’s when she seems to have the most to say. She’s very quiet, otherwise, but you know that you two are really close. “Chiaki,” you exclaim, hoping to catch her attention. She seems very focused on that truck.

 “Hi,” she responds softly, then turns to you. “Who’s that…?” 

“I’unno,” you grin back, and that seems to be it. She isn’t really one for talking but that’s alright. Together, the two of you shuffle a bit down the sidewalk to get a better view of the whole situation. When you squint, you see a tall man in the front seat of the truck, and after another few steps, there’s a woman standing outside of it holding the hand of a little boy. He doesn’t see you at first, but he looks sad. He’s got shaggy black hair hanging in his eyes and a blue scarf around his neck. You turn to Chiaki to say something about him, but your mother calls for you by your front door. Politely, just as you were taught, you say goodbye to Chiaki and run to her side. 

Your mother takes your tiny hand in hers and tells you that it isn’t nice to stare at people, especially the ones you don’t know. You nod and tell her you understand, but you still wonder about that boy you saw. You don’t go outside for the rest of the day, instead spending your time either watching TV, practicing your writing, or looking out the window until the moving truck leaves. 

* * *

 

You are Gundam Tanaka, a quiet, intelligent, and alone five year-old little boy, and you are moving into your new house. 

Hopefully, this will be your last house, considering the amount of moving you’ve been doing lately. Your mother hates moving, but your father hates staying in one place. You think this is your fifth house, but you aren’t sure. You usually go to your mother when you have questions to ask. Avoiding your father as much as you could became routine a while ago. 

While your father watches over the movers, your mother holds your hand and tells you in that soft voice of hers that this is a very nice neighborhood. She says that there are a lot of children your age that you should get along with nicely. You tell her gruffly that you always liked animals better than people, anyways, so it didn’t matter where you lived. 

Just as she gently squeezes your hand and tells you to lighten up, you take the liberty to stretch a bit and see out of your scarf and look around. There are people watching the truck from the sidewalk. They’re girls, and they’re staring right at you. You flush and hide in your hair and scarf, scooting closer to your mother. She smiles down at you, and you stay close to her until the little girls run away. 

When you go inside there are boxes strewn everywhere, but your father ignores all of them and heads straight for the new bedroom he shares with your mother. He shouts something as he ascends the stairs about starting to unpack, insisting that both you and your mother get to work. You hate unpacking because you’re well aware that everything will be in a box again soon enough, but your mother starts opening boxes and you don’t want her to be alone. While you work, you hesitantly ask her if you could get another dog soon, preferably a retriever (or really anything other than the Pomeranian you reluctantly loved. Your father made you get rid of him when you moved last time). She tells you to be patient and wait for a while and then you would see; there are more important things at the moment, she admits a bit hesitantly. You worry about her a lot, but she tells you you’re too young to worry. Sometimes, after they think you’ve fallen asleep, you can hear your father’s voice booming and the sound of her crying. Your mother always wears long sleeves, but you never ask why and you aren’t sure you want to know. 

Tomorrow, she tells you over dinner (which doesn’t taste too good as usual, you note), is your first official day at your new school. Your family only has one car, and since your father uses it to go to work, it leaves you and your mother to take the bus. She tells you the school bus comes at eight o’clock every morning at the end of the street, and that she could walk you if you wanted. You protest, insisting that since you’re turning six soon that you should have a bit more freedom. She smiles warmly at you and ruffles your hair, and though you know she didn’t take that seriously, you appreciate the attention. She always smiles just for you. 

* * *

 

In the morning, your father drives you to school and kisses you on the forehead as goodbye, and you bound excitedly out of the car. This week you’ve been focusing on colors and how to make them. Your teacher told you yesterday that you would be finger-painting today, so you race inside the school and into your classroom. She’s already setting up when you arrive. 

There are smocks on little hooks by your cubbies, one for each of you. During the first week of the year you all customized your smocks, and everyone was very impressed with yours. It had handprints with every color you could find, and your name sprawled across the chest. After stuffing your bag into your cubby, you head back to your seat and join the other two at your table, Chiaki and Akane. The fourth seat has been empty the whole year, so it’s an all-girls table, you’re happy to admit. 

Before you begin, your teacher tells you as your classmates settle in, there’s a new student. You scan the room, looking for this so-called new student before you spot him, up at the front of the class, nestled quietly into a deep blue scarf. Chiaki turns to you. “...That looks like the boy we saw yesterday.” 

“Ohh,” you nod, everything becoming clear to you. Akane leans in and whispers something to Chiaki and they start to speak back and forth, probably explaining who he is. You turn your attention back to the teacher only to find that the boy doesn’t want to introduce himself, so he goes to pick a seat instead. Akane mumbles something about that empty seat at your table, and you hear the chair squeal as she protectively wraps a leg around it. 

But the boy ignores your table and chooses the table closest to the cubbies, a table where no one sits. Your teacher is a bit taken off guard, but she says nothing and lets him stay in the corner by himself. You and Chiaki begin to talk as she passes out paper to everyone. “Why is he by himself?” you start. 

“I don’t know,” she hums quietly, “maybe...he likes it that way.” 

That’s kind of thought provoking, you realize: wanting to be alone. You’ve never really thought about being alone on purpose, because you didn’t really think that was a thing. You’re really only alone when you’re sleepy or angry, but you don’t feel either of those things very often. You think about it as the teacher dismisses tables one at a time to get their smocks and you think about it when you’re mushing colors together on the paper to make a muddy rainbow. She lets you all make as many papers as you want, and by the time of your snack break, you’ve made four. But you keep thinking about that boy in the corner by himself, and while Chiaki and Akane share a baggie of pretzels, you slip out of your seat and head over to his table. 

* * *

As far as first days of school go, this one has probably been the easiest. You should know: you’ve been through this three or four times by now. You’ve never come in on something so relaxing, though, and you hope that the rest of the year will be this simple. Your new teacher is very sweet, but you don’t tell the class your name. They’re all too busy talking to each other and waiting to paint. You don’t want to make yourself known because you know all too well that you will be packing soon, though your mother insists that this time you’re staying put. 

The teacher sets down three cups of paint, a cup of water, and a stack of paper on your table and asks if you know about primary and secondary colors (to which you proudly respond of course you do). She then tells you that today is about the colors and that you could paint whatever you wanted. You start with blue, swirling your fingers around the paper and creating lines like wind. You do that a couple of times with red and yellow, and then you mix them, finding that you like purple the best. By the time you’re done, there are papers covering your table. Your teacher returns and tells you it’s snack break, so you could move around and talk if you wanted. You don’t, of course. 

You continue to dab your fingers in blue and red, mixing to purple, then draw animals on the few papers you have left. The chatter of the room is almost comforting, a pleasant humming in your ears. You almost don’t notice the sound of the chair next to you screeching against the tile floor.

 A pleasant and high voice greets your ears. “Hello,” it says, and when you turn, it’s a blonde girl sitting next to you and smiling. You recognize her as one of the two girls that was staring at you yesterday while you held your mother’s hand. She looks down at the table and sees your drawings. “Wow…did you make all of these?” Carefully, she reaches across the surface of the wooden table and lifts one up to look at: the first one you made. 

Her eyes burn into you, and eventually you have to look away from your work, cleaning your fingers in the cup of water at your side. “It’s nothing,” you scoff, and her face lights up at your voice. “You can have that one. I didn’t like it anyway.” A total lie, of course, but the way she looks at you is very much worth it. 

“Wooow, really? That’s so cool! Thank you!” You think that’s it, but she proves you wrong, instead scooting closer. As she inspects the blue swirls on the paper, you watch her, wiping what’s left of the paint onto your nameless smock. Out of nowhere, she looks up and grins at you, and you notice that two of her bottom teeth are missing. “So why are you alone over here anyways?” 

 While this attention is somewhat flattering, you feel best if you stay alone. You figure you can achieve this by making conversation as small as possible. “Because,” you shrug. There. That should do it. 

“Because _why_?” She prods, and you realize things probably won’t get easier. You flush a bit and pull up your scarf with your clean hand. 

“I like it that way,” you admit, watching her when you tell her. She nods and looks as if everything wrong with the world has suddenly been righted. Her feet kick underneath the chair excitedly and she grins. 

“You should sit with me,” she offers, “me ‘n Chiaki ‘n Akane. It’s an all-girls table, but I don’t think they care. Well, Akane might, but that isn’t important. I’m sure they’d really like you once they got to know you! I mean, I have to, too, but you seem pretty nice ‘n all…” 

“Thank you,” you say, the red of your face hidden in your scarf, “but I like being over here.” 

“Oh,” is all she says, and guilt seeps into your chest. Her face falls for a minute, but the next she’s smiling again. “Okay! I’ll see you later, then. Oh, and I’m Sonia.” She gives you another toothy grin and jumps out of the chair, leaving you alone again. Fittingly, the teacher then calls for snack break to end and to keep painting. 

When she walks by you again, you ask for white paint and black paint. She gives you a bit of a confused look but brings you two cups with each color in them. You get to work, seeing what white does with red, then blue, and then you mix with yellow and red and white. You decide that you like yellow and white best, maybe even better than purple. You look up. It looks like that girl’s hair. 

You like her. This isn’t good. Liking people leads to nothing but bad dreams and getting made fun of. Not to mention that if you got attached to her you would probably end up moving away even faster. Nobody has to know that you like her. But you think you do. Maybe. 

* * *

Your father picks you up when kindergarten is over during his lunch break. The moment you climb into the backseat, you practically burst with excitement, telling him about all the cute things that you painted that are nestled in your bag right now. You continue, barely stopping to breathe, and tell him about the new boy in your class and that he’s your new neighbor. He laughs and tells you to calm down, one thing at a time. Although it’s hard, you manage to get things out one by one until both of you have the whole story clear. He tells you that he’s happy for you but insists that you get something for lunch before you show him your paintings. 

As he cuts you an apple you lay your artwork out on the table, but notice that something important is missing. That picture that the boy gave you. Where did you leave it? You could have sworn it was in your pocket. Or was it your bag? You frown, accepting the apple slices from your father as he admires all of your hard work. You frown and tell him the most important one isn’t there. 

Just then, the doorbell chimes throughout your home, and alongside your dad you head to the door. As it opens you’re face to face with the new kid in class who never told you his name. He’s completely alone, standing in the middle of your porch and looking intimidated, but he thrusts a paper into your hands and says, “You forgot it.” Without another word, he leaves, simply walking himself home. 

In the corner of the paper, a name is scribbled in permanent marker. After some careful time, you realize it’s his signature. His name is Gundam. 

* * *

 

She talks to you the next morning before class starts. She tells you more than once that you should consider sitting with her and whoever the other two girls are, but you keep saying no. You don’t want to make the other two girls upset, considering that Sonia is the only person in your new neighborhood that has spoken a word to you. After denying her for maybe the tenth time, she frowns and hurries back to her own table. 

You figure that you blew your only chance of making a friend and now she’s gone to tell everyone else about how hard you are to talk to. It wouldn’t be the first time. It seems like that’s what she’s doing; she’s leaned over her table, whispering to the other two girls there, and she points a finger in your direction. The brown-haired one looks at you with a weird face and after a moment all three girls stand and crowd around you. 

 Sonia speaks first, standing in the middle of them and looking like the star. “Gundam, we’ve talked it over, and…well,” she bites her lip, looking at the other two girls excitedly. 

“We don’t mind if you sit with us,” the brunette finishes for her, and she grins at you, revealing her snaggletooth mouth. “I’m Akane.” 

“I’m Chiaki,” the third one says, looking at you with a far-away expression. She seems to be the most relaxed out of the three of them. “You seem okay. From what Sonia has said...we really don’t mind. If you want to.” 

It’s a little odd, you realize, being pressured to make a decision like this like you’ve never done before. All of them are staring at you with their wide, little girl eyes, stressing you out until you (being the gentleman you are) have no choice but to accept. The teacher smiles when she sees you move, and Sonia shares some of her snack with you later on. You smile a little bit, but you make sure its quick enough that no one really sees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i got busy!! school and band and friends and driving take up so much time. sorry sorry! i forgot to thank in the last chapter two people: hinatatas on ao3 and aradiyeah on tumblr! both helped me so much and encouraged me to keep going so thank you two so dearly for the support!!

You are Sonia Nevermind, a smart, delightful, and lovable eight year-old girl. You are several months into second grade, when it snows once a week and gradually grows colder every day. Gundam Tanaka has been one of your closest friends for two years now. Your birthday was last week, and, being another year older, your parents have agreed that you can now ride the bus instead of being dropped off at the front of the school. You like sitting with Gundam on one side and Chiaki across the aisle, preferably. 

School has been cancelled today; it was the first big snow of the winter, so everyone is outside are snowmen on every corner. You step onto your porch, wrapped in your green winter coat and snow boots, and Gundam is already waiting for you. He told you a while ago that you should never knock on his door unless he tells you it’s safe. You wonder why a lot, but never asked him. As you walk down the street to the end of the block, you prod at him again for his height, telling him he acts so much more mature than you and you’re still much taller than him. It always makes you laugh, and it might bother him, but he always lets you have your fun. 

He tells you that his mother got him a secret early birthday present: a book about magic and angels and demons. Gundam talks in great detail about it, telling you that he’s skipped around a lot but it’s the most enlightening thing he’s ever read. You listen, getting a word in every now and then, and he stops at the end of the block. When you sneeze, he frowns. He unwraps the blue scarf from around his neck and wraps it around yours, insisting that it’s getting too small for him anyways. 

 When you curl it around your neck and thank him, he blushes but tells you, “You are welcome, princess.” He’s started calling you that and you adore it. You still aren’t sure what you’ve done to him to deserve that name, but you appreciate it anyways. He finds a stick somewhere lodged under the snow and begins explaining things to you that you don’t fully understand. But he’s so intent on telling you that you listen, nodding now and then, and you take a step closer to get a better look at what he’s drawing in the snow. It’s a circle: one that you’ve seen in books and that your church tells you is something you should stay away from. If your parents ever found out that this was the kind of thing that Gundam liked, you realize, you wouldn’t allowed to be friends. But this only makes Gundam more interesting.

* * *

 

You are Gundam Tanaka, learning, growing, and not-so alone, standing at seven years old and soon to turn eight. You are currently explaining to your best friend (your first one, also, if you’re being technical) about a book your mother bought for your upcoming birthday. It is a book all about spirits and angels and demons, and you feel a personal connection to it. You think this book is the first thing you’ve really enjoyed in a long time (well, besides animals). 

Sonia shivers and sneezes, so you give her your blue scarf. For some reason, the way it looks on her, you have no intention of taking it back. Casually you lie, telling her that you’re outgrowing it and that she should take it off your hands. She doesn’t believe you but doesn’t point it out, and you like that. You like a lot of things about her. 

As you explain your revelations to her, you draw circles of what the book told you in the snow. Sonia’s eyes widen when you finish the first one, but she doesn’t ask and neither do you. What you don’t tell her is why what you’ve realized is so important. But you realized when you were reading through that book two very important things: your father is very obviously a demon, and your mother is an angel trapped by him. No other conclusion seems logical to you. But you never tell Sonia about your father because you’re afraid she’ll realize how horrible you have the potential to be. 

With a deep breath, you finish speaking and finally look at her expression. Her eyes are large and she’s stopped rubbing her hands together for warmth. Instead, she stares at you with fascination in her gaze. “Gundam…that’s so… _cool_ ,” she mutters, wrapping your scarf tighter around her neck. This statement is immediately followed by, “Can you teach me more?” 

An opportunity has been revealed to impress her. You cannot resist. “I have the book in my room right now.” 

That’s all it takes before the both of you are rushing down the sludgy street, excitement obvious in the air. Your mother has a cold and is watching over the house, and your father’s car isn’t there, so he must be at work. Sonia exclaims that she’s never been in your house before and she can hardly wait to see what it’s like. You aren’t quite sure what to say to that other than you hope she won’t be disappointed. 

The front door slams behind you as you bound up the stairs with Sonia behind you, shouting to your mother that you’re home and you brought your friend (you’ve told her a lot about Sonia. She seems to have the general idea). She sits down on your bedroom floor and you kneel beside her, reaching to get the large book out from underneath your bed. You hide it from your father, because you have a bad feeling that if he knew, he wouldn’t be happy. 

“Gundam,” she hums as you lean over to close the door. “I like your room. I’ve never been in a boy’s room before.” And it hits you that you, just the same, have never had a girl in your room before. Internally, you shrug, telling yourself that it’s no big deal. Hiding the redness on your face is harder than it seems, though. She continues on. “You have a lot of drawings on your walls. Did you do all of them?” Sonia stands, heading for one of the papers that you made on your first day of school: the one that was the color of her hair. 

“Um,” you interrupt, taking her attention away from something you probably should have put away, “here is the book. What do you want to know?” You plop down onto the edge of your creaky mattress, and she sits right next to you, forgetting about your walls completely. 

It’s a little obvious she isn’t sure where to start, but she does make an effort. She reaches out, pointing a finger at the creature in the top corner of the page. “What’s that?” She asks, looking at you with expectant eyes. 

“That,” you explain, and you puff your chest up just to feel a boost of confidence, “is a succubus. They’re part of the underworld, and they steal the souls of men.” There you go. You're impressing even yourself. You wouldn't admit it, but practicing the pronunciation for everything in this book took hours.

Her eyes widen, flitting back and forth between your face and the page. “A suck-you-bus?” Sonia tries, and you smile a bit, but nod. As you continue to explain exactly what it is and what it does (to the best of your knowledge, considering you haven’t read this page much), she leans closer and closer. It almost distracts you from the house shaking as the front door shuts loudly and your heart drops. 

* * *

Gundam goes stiff when somewhere in his house a door slams. He stops telling you about the suck-you-bus. You aren’t sure you understand why he’s so weird, suddenly. When the two of you walked in his mother was home, so obviously the person home now is his father. Even though he doesn’t talk about him a lot, you know Gundam has a father, because everyone has a father. 

But he slips off the bed and snaps the book shut, shoving it under his bed. His eyes are wide and he looks at you, obviously panicked. “Sonia,” he addresses you, which is odd, because he never calls you by your name, “you have to go now.” 

“Oh, okay,” you reply. That was easy. If he needed you to leave when his father got home – for whatever reason – all he had to do was tell you. You slide off the edge of his bed and reach for his doorknob. To your surprise, he swats your hand away with a “no”. This leaves you the question: how else are you going to get out of his house? 

“Over here,” Gundam motions, and he scuttles over to the window. He fumbles with the latch, visibly trembling, and shoves it open with a whine of protest. The screen is still in the way, however, and this makes him even more nervous than before. You take another glance around his room and find a pair of scissors neatly at your feet. Without thinking, you hand them to him, and he plunges them into the screen, cutting a jagged hole in it, leaving you with an open window. “I’m sorry about this,” he sighs again, embarrassment heavy in his voice. 

“That’s okay,” you tell him, and you smile. “I used to love to climb trees.” And this will be an easy climb, considering that there’s a branch snug up against the side of his house. You prepare yourself with your feet against the sill, then take a leap and catch onto the branch, effortlessly shimmying down the rest of the tree. When you’re on the ground he tells you to go back home, and you do. You never once think to question how frightened he is. 

* * *

Sonia descends the tree as if she was born to do it, and when she’s finished, she looks up at you, waiting for further instructions. You tell her to go home and she does without a word. A sigh of relief escapes your lips. The last thing in the world you want is for Sonia Nevermind to meet your father. You wish you had been given that choice, but since you haven’t, it’s your duty to protect her from him. You have to protect everyone you care about from not just him, but anyone that would try to get in your way. 

It isn’t long after she’s gone that you realize she still had your scarf. But that’s okay. You told yourself that you would give it to her anyways. You hear your father’s voice billowing throughout the house, something about the floors. You hear yourself swallow loudly in your ears, looking down at your sludge-covered boots. It worries you for a while and you pick up your room just in case he comes in to check on you. You shed all of your wet clothing and stuff them into your closet, hoping to erase the evidence. After his voice dies down, you relax. He usually takes it easy on your mother when she’s sick. 

School is back on the next day, and Sonia greets you excitedly at the bus stop. She’s still wearing your scarf, and the sight of it makes your heart flutter. She tells you that your old blue scarf is very thin and wonders aloud how you ever kept warm in it. Just as you’re about to suggest that you take it back, she tells you that since her mother is teaching her how to knit, she’s going to knit you the biggest, longest, and thickest scarf that she can so that you’ll never get cold again. 

As the school bus rumbles to a stop at the end of the block and you all shuffle in, you wonder what on earth could have caused you to meet someone as bright as her. She’s far too cheerful for someone like you and having a crush on her would probably end in disaster. You sit next to her on the bus as usual, staying silent as she talks to Chiaki across the aisle. While she does, you try and convince yourself that you have a crush on Ibuki, who is sitting in the front seat and yelling to someone in the back of the bus. It doesn’t work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GOT BUSY AGAIN SORRY,,,but I felt inspired to post another chapter after playing chapter 3 of sdr2 today so...there was that part with souda and gundam arguing and it felt right so  
> this is kind of a climax part maybe?? i dont know. sorry if i feel like im rushing this because im bad at writing some scenes with younger kids and i didnt want it to get boring. also please give me a little credit lol i finished this months ago and havent really written since so i'm a little out of it  
> this chapter has a bit of trigger warnings for abuse?? so if you're uncomfortable then it might be best to skip this chapter i don't really know what people are uncomfortable with it but this chapter does have character development so

You are Sonia Nevermind, a ten year-old girl who, today, is sitting by herself. Your best friend, Gundam, wasn’t at the bus stop this morning, leaving you to sit by yourself and to try and catch Chiaki’s attention. Everyone is very riled up this morning, but you aren’t sure why. Your parents tell you that since its spring and the year is almost over that people are going to be rowdier than usual. As the bus grumbles beneath you and rolls away from your block, you watch as Gundam’s house slides out of view. It looks like his father isn’t home, seeing as their one car isn’t in the driveway. He always tells you not to knock on his door when the car is in his drive. You still haven’t asked why, but it’s beginning to bother you. 

The back of the bus is noisy, and after you give up in your attempts to talk to Chiaki, you sit up on your knees and peek over the top of your seat. Hajime is sitting in the very last seat on the bus in the aisle seat, looking to his side and talking to someone. This is odd, because Hajime always sits with that kid with the black hair and glasses whose name you can never remember. 

“A new kid,” a voice tells you from the side, and you look over to see Chiaki looking right back at you. You sit back down in your seat and scoot towards the aisle, thankful for someone to talk to. “It doesn’t happen so often anymore, so...everyone wants to know about him.” 

“No one crowded around Gundam when he was new,” you mutter, leaning against the leather seat.

 “He made it clear that he didn’t want to be crowded around when he sat alone. Plus, Hajime doesn’t talk to a lot of people, so...I guess they want to know what makes the new kid so special,” she shrugs, glancing to the back of the bus. Ibuki sat in the seat in front of Hajime, excitedly and rapidly asking questions that she didn’t give anyone time to answer. Teruteru prods over and over at the brunette, repeatedly trying to get his attention but obviously failing. 

To everyone’s surprise, however, the new kid (with stark white hair and grey eyes) stands the moment the bus screeches to a halt, and he stumbles up to the front without a word. He’s the first off the bus, leaving it quiet and eerie. Everyone follows suit and exits one at a time, orderly, without a word. As soon as he’s off the bus, Hajime rushes to catch up with him. You wonder why it’s so interesting that someone new is in the school; it isn’t like this is the first time it’s happened. In the back of your mind you imagine what Gundam would say about him, and you hope he’s okay, wherever he is.

* * *

 

You are Gundam Tanaka, and at ten years old, you have never been in so much pain in your life. But the sharp hurt in your arm (which you’re pretty sure is broken) isn’t important compared to the fact that your father is gone. This could be seen as either good or bad, because: your father is gone and will no longer hurt your mother, but he took the car and broke a lot of things on his way out. Possibly including some of your bones. 

It started around seven, you think: half an hour before you get up to get ready for school. You woke up to the sound of glass breaking loudly and your mother screaming. You fell out of bed with the sheets tangled around your waist, and scrambled down the steps only to find your mother on the kitchen floor, and your father standing over her. You stumbled down and just as he was about to hit her, you lunged in front of his hand. 

A look of confusion crossed his face, then suddenly mixed with anger. He growled at you, low and deep, and in a flash grasped your arm in a crushing grip. White hot pain flashed across your vision and he held you like that, glaring at you with eternal fires in his eyes, before he threw you into the wall. Something in your arm (and possibly your shoulder) cracked and he stormed out of the house, leaving both you and your mother lying on the ground. 

Now, you’re sitting on your mother’s bed, trying to keep your arm in the air and pressure off of it. She hasn’t stopped crying all morning, and you aren’t sure how bad she’s hurt, but you have a feeling she’s in a lot of pain. She keeps apologizing without stopping as you use your good hand to wipe her face. When she takes a break from sobbing to catch her breath, you jump off her bed and head into her bathroom, finding a washcloth and soaking it in warm water. 

All you can think about was that look in your father’s eyes. They blazed angrily as they stared at you, burning their image into your mind. Thinking about it now, it makes your gut twist nervously. Your mother always told you that you had your father’s blue eyes. That alone makes you wonder to yourself: just how much evil are you capable of? You’ve read stories of demons and sorcerers who trapped women and children in order to make them do their bidding. You know you have your father’s eyes, but you reluctantly ponder what other qualities of him lay dormant in your brain. 

Your arm screams in protest if you try and move it, and an accidental brush of it against the doorframe makes your knees buckle and you whine in pain. When you climb back onto her bed you have to use both hands to get up and that alone makes you dizzy. But it eventually fades back to a consistent throb, and you sloppily put the rag onto her face and attempt to wipe her face clean. She catches on after a moment and helps you along, but she still looks miserable when you’re done. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, on the edge of tears again, “Gundam, I’m sorry. He – He’s never hit you before, I don’t know what happened. But it’s over, it’s all over, we’re going to be alright.” Her words sound more for her own comfort rather than yours. You aren’t sure what to do. It’s eleven o’clock; you have missed your bus and your mother has missed hers. All there is to do is wait and see if your arm stops hurting. When she finally falls asleep, she reminds you of an injured bird, and you are her deformed chick. 

After lying next to your mother for another hour, a feeling of failure settles into your gut. The demon escaped successfully and probably won’t even face any trouble from it. There’s no telling how much damage he caused; you didn’t even get a full look around the house before your mother trudged upstairs, wailing. You’re supposed to protect people from demons, yet you ended up getting hurt by one. That demon’s blood still runs through your veins. You’re destined to become just like him, you fear: doomed to hurt and destroy everything in your path until you eventually self-destruct. 

But you won’t let this happen. As you lay on the bed, you decide one very simple thing: you’re going to become the master of demons and control them, bend their wills away from those you love. The title of Dark Overlord is in your future. You think it’s far preferable to be in charge of hatred than to be swallowed by it. 

* * *

Everyone clatters off the bus as soon as it stops, heading right for the sidewalks and walking to their houses. You linger in the back of the group, hands gripping your backpack straps, as you trudge towards your home. When you look to Gundam’s house at the end of the street, his father’s car is still absent from his driveway. You think that it’s safe to try the door. If he wasn’t at school, then the only other place he would be is his house. It’s the only logical conclusion. 

“Do you want to come over?” you hear, and when you look up its Chiaki. She’s been walking beside you ever since you got off the bus and you hadn’t even noticed. She stops walking for a moment and you do, too, giving you enough time to shake your head. A deep frown sets in her face. “You’ve been quiet all day.” 

“I think I’m going to try checking on Gundam. He doesn’t normally miss school. I’m worried,” you admit, glancing as the rest of the group in front of you disperses through the cul-de-sac. Chiaki’s stare is watching you adamantly, and your face reddens a bit. She seems to know where your mind is going. 

“...People get sick sometimes, you know,” Chiaki tries, still attempting to get you to feel better. “He could have...caught a cold or something. You know, allergies and all.” 

“…Still,” you insist, and you begin to walk backwards down the sidewalk. More words lay on the tip of your tongue, ready to come out, but that’s all you really find the mind to say. She smiles slowly, accepting your decision, and crosses the street to go home. 

Gundam’s house has never loomed so tall over you before. When you try knocking on his door nothing happens, and you just stand and wait. You try ringing the doorbell once, then twice, then a third time for good measure. Nothing. The only sound is the wind, brushing against your cheeks and making you aware of the fact that you are alone. You call his name several times before you sigh impatiently and make your way around to the back of his house. It’s a little desperate, but it’s the best you’ve got. 

The window to Gundam’s bedroom is wide open and the screen is still broken. You sling your bag up against his house and hike up your pants, then look around to make sure that no one is watching. With a heave, you throw yourself against the tree and start to shimmy up. 

* * *

Consciousness rockets back to you the moment you hear a crash in the room next to you, which would be your bedroom. For a flickering second, you think that your father has come back, and you instinctively curl closer to your mother. But for what reason would he be in your room? Nothing comes to you, so you assume that the worst possible outcome hasn’t happened. 

Your mother is still asleep, her cheeks tearstained and puffy and red. She looks older when she’s asleep, you realize. Her hair sticks to her slick forehead in feathery bits that thin out and then billow down to her shoulders. The lines in her face crease with anxiety as if she is afraid she will be hunted in her sleep. It still worries you. She keeps telling you that you are still too young to worry so much, but you stopped believing that you were too young for anything a while ago. 

Her bed creaks in protest as you slide off of it and you hiss, remembering the pain in your arm. The noise is a bit alarming. You want to take this intruder by surprise. A flame of hope sparks in your mind, and you think to yourself about all of the wondrous stories you could tell about fighting off a burglar with a broken arm, all without waking your mother. 

A voice calls through the halls, though you don’t recognize it through the wall. It is high and unmistakably female, though it has a certain presence to it. Your eyes widen. Out of everything this could have been the best option for what would happen (or, possibly, this really is the worst). You slip out of your mother’s room and peek around the hallway, spotting the trespasser at the head of the stairs. 

“…Sonia?” Her name tumbles from your lips, a bit weaker than you intend. She turns to you, blond hair swirling, and a grin breaks out across her face. You attempt to smile back, but your arm is still throbbing dully throughout the entire left side of your body. 

“Gundam!” She exclaims, vaulting up to you, and for a moment you fear that she’ll crash into you. It crosses your mind that the sound you heard in your haze of a dream was probably her ringing the doorbell. “Where have you been all day?” Sonia continues, and she puts her hands on both of your shoulders. 

You feel it immediately, shattering like a mirror and flashing through your arm like a bolt of lightning. Your gasp resonates through the air and she pulls back, alarmed, as you fall to your knees on the floor. Your right arm flies to the other in defense, but you look up, points of sweat dotting your forehead. “It’s, um, it’s nothing. Don’t worry,” you try, though you’re sure it’s useless by now. 

She slips past you, peeking into the room where your mother sleeps. Her eyes widen upon the sight and you can tell it goes through her mind that she may not be breathing. After taking a good look, she sees a steady rise and fall of the chest. But she also spots the ring of purple under her eye and the wrinkle of worry in her forehead. 

* * *

At first, you don’t really have a normal reaction. After looking at Gundam’s mother, you look back at him, then walk him into the hall. A brief question and answer ensues, with all of your questions as simple as it gets and all of his answers unsure and reluctant. You aren’t that good at reading people, but the situation isn’t as foggy as it was before. He admits to you that he’s pretty sure his arm is broken, and that strikes pangs of nausea all throughout your stomach. 

“Wait inside,” you tell him, then stamp down the steps and out the door, leaving him in the dust and abandoning your backpack in the backyard. You race to your house and tug on the doorknob repeatedly until you find the mindset to rush inside. Your mother sits at the kitchen counter. 

“You’re a bit late,” she muses, spinning on the stool to face you. “Was everything at school alright?” 

It’s a bit hard to hold everything in at once, so the truth ends up spilling from your mouth before you can fully understand the gravity of it all. Your words are jumbled together and the only thing you think you communicate successfully is that Gundam and his mother are hurt and you don’t know what to do. She takes a brief moment to soak the info in, and then thanks you for your honesty and steps out the front door. 

Ambulances and sirens are wailing within minutes. The block lights up with activity, the ambulance stopping right in front of Gundam’s mailbox and a police car parking in his drive. Gundam and his now awake mother stand at the open doorway, both looking battered and worn. When you approach Gundam you apologize for leaving him alone. He just thanks you for doing something. Your mother and his exchange a few words before his mother is questioned by the police about Gundam’s father. 

Your stomach stirs when you look at him, and when he looks back at you. It startles you to realize you care about Gundam a lot more than you originally imagined. 

* * *

The ambulance is what wakes your mother. It roared down the cul-de-sac and screeched to a halt right in front of your house. Sonia must have called the police. What alarms you is that your mother hardly looks surprised by waking to the cry of the sirens outside your house; she rises slowly, rubbing her good eye carefully, as if she was used to getting up to something much, much worse.  

You and Sonia sit on the front steps of your house while your mother talks to a policeman. Neither of you say a word but you know eventually the truth must come out. When you look up to start talking she’s staring at you, concern etched deep into her eyes, and you wonder how long she’s been watching you. It falls from your lips all at once: why you didn’t want her coming over when your father was home and why you wouldn’t let her meet him. 

Sonia listens the whole time, granting you patient smiles whenever you take a moment to breathe. You start from around the time when you met her and go all the way up to this morning. You’re practically gasping when you finish, and she opens her mouth to speak, but closes it as if nothing really can be said. Both of you are silent for a while until you hear your mother’s voice. She’s calling you to go to the ambulance so the two of you can get your injuries checked out. 

You’re about to tell Sonia that you have to go, but she’s hugging you before you can speak. You flinch at first, but her persistence lets you ease into it. Her body is soft and warm and feminine pressed close to yours, and you find it in your mind to hug her back after a while. She cares about you, you think. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have listened to you tell one endless story about your father. When she pulls away from you, there’s emotion welled up in her eyes. It isn’t pity, though: she’s too sweet for that. No, it’s something similar to what you recognize as hope, for you, maybe. “Thank you…princess,” you murmur, and she gifts you one more smile. But she doesn’t say a single word as you walk to the ambulance. 

When you look at her, you reconsider learning the ways of the underworld to make yourself stronger. But after thinking about it, she just makes you want to be stronger. No one else is going to get hurt if you can prevent it. As you and your mother ride away in the ambulance, you think about Sonia. You’re going to have to push aside your crush on her if you want to toughen up, at least for now. It’s going to be difficult but you’re sure you can do it. Not just for her sake, but for everyone’s. 

Still, you make sure before you go that you wear the long purple scarf she knitted for you on the way to the hospital. It’s really warm and tumbles to the floor in deep puddles of fabric.  She promised you that you’d never grow out of it. You have no intention of trying to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this seems a bit rushed but i remember at the time of writing this that i was somewhat excited to get to this scene while i was writing this. really really huge headcanon: komaeda the dramatic theatre kid  
> gundam is such a baby. literally. thats all i have to say

You are Sonia Nevermind, twelve years old, and today is your first day of seventh grade. The hallways of the school are still as dirty and familiar as you remember them, and you aren’t sure if that makes you feel better or worse. Right now, you are walking in your very own pair of heels, the first pair that you’ve ever been allowed to wear outside of the house. They make you feel powerful with the knowledge that you own them and that you are now a couple inches taller than all of the girls in your class. Koizumi makes a bit of a snide comment about their impracticality in the locker room during gym, but you ignore her statement and flash her a smile instead. 

Someone new makes their way into your field of vision during fourth period history, introducing themselves with a stammer. He’s got black hair and chunky glasses, and you feel like you know him from somewhere, though you absolutely cannot place a name. He speaks to you informally as if the two of you have been friend for ages. When you ask him what his name was again, he tells you it’s Kazuichi Souda, and that you’ve been in school together since grade two. You find that interesting, you tell him with a smile, even though there’s sadly no way you could remember someone like him. 

Gundam tells you his opinions on the people in his classes during lunch. None of them seem very positive, but you delight in listening to him put sentences together. He began to use a nonsensical method of speech the summer going into fifth grade, telling you that he was “growing too old to speak like an infant any longer”. You enjoy watching his vocabulary grow, and you joke about it sometimes, asking if he studies up on it at night. You also tease him about the fact that he’s finally as tall as you are, and he scoffs, saying that one day he’ll reveal his “true form” and it’ll be the size of a building, just you wait. 

Chiaki sits next to you, absentmindedly gnawing on a carrot stick dipped in ranch. When Gundam stands to get in line for food you turn your attention to her, asking how her summer went. She replies quietly that it was good and that she attended a video game tournament in July that lasted three days. You consider asking her to elaborate, but her eyes are so fixed on something that you don’t think she’s entirely there. The subject drops. You follow her stare across the room to see that she’s watching Hajime talk to that boy that was talking to you during history. 

“Is something wrong?” you ask her, scooting just a bit closer and lowering your voice. She says nothing and just snaps off the end of the carrot into her mouth. “You know, you and Hajime have never talked before. Do you like him?” 

“It isn’t that,” she murmurs, finally breaking her gaze away from the two boys and looking at you. “Everyone is always aware of him because he always reaches out to anyone who’s left out. Now he’s talking to Souda. That’s just…it’s interesting,” she observes, digging a can of soda out of her sack lunch. 

Just as you were about to say that Hajime isn’t exactly as selfless as she says, Komaeda drops his tray in the seat across from Chiaki and slumps down in the chair, effectively blocking her view of the boys talking. You and Komaeda haven’t known each other as long as Chiaki has known him, but you had a typing class together last year, so that was a place to begin. He sighs airily, leaning on the table and completely ignoring his lunch. “Nanami, I’m in love.” 

“What is it, Komaeda?” she asks, raising her eyebrows skeptically and glancing sideways at you. Her appetite disappears and she nudges her remaining baby carrots at you, knowing well that you’d accept. You grin and take a bite out of one, watching as the white-haired boy in front of you nervously flicks his eyes to the both of you. 

“Well, um,” he hums, picking up his plastic fork and pushing around the five pieces of lettuce your school calls a salad, “this morning, we were playing basketball in gym…and you, you know how I have gym class with Hinata?” 

“No,” she says, but the two of you know where this is going. You still remember the day he came to school and Hajime was the first person to talk to him (even though Komaeda insisted on being alone). 

“I do,” he explains briefly, then continues, “and he went to throw the ball to the basket. There was a huge sixth grader barreling towards him, though, and he jumped to make the shot, and…” he swallowed, shoving a piece of lettuce into his mouth and looking at both of you guiltily. “I saw up his shirt. And ever since then I can’t stop _thinking_ about what I saw.” He seems to feel bad about admitting he thinks he might be gay, but neither you nor Chiaki think it’s bad. 

You start by reassuring him that liking another male is not a bad thing: especially someone like Hajime. He seems to perk up a bit at that and you go on, telling him that Hajime really is a great guy and that he shouldn’t be ashamed. Chiaki softly admits that she isn’t sure that the brunette is completely straight either, and that if she ever heard anything she’d let him know. 

The conversation ends on a high note, with Komaeda and Chiaki discussing their classes and planning to sit together during study hall. But you hear a lunch tray drop to the floor, and their words are cut short to turn and find the source of the noise. You spot Gundam standing next to the table where Souda and Hajime were speaking, and his lunch is all over the floor. 

“This is bad,” Chiaki mutters, and you nod in agreement. This can only go one way, and you both know that this won’t end well at all. 

* * *

You are Gundam Tanaka, twelve years old, and some asshole just got in your way and ruined your lunch. 

Your day had been mediocre at best, what with the new classes and the same old people. But at least you still had the pleasure of sitting down and biting into an overpriced reheated veggie burger to look forward to. Now you don’t even have that. The food that you quite literally _just_ bought is now scattered on the floor because of said asshole deciding to scoot back in his chair right as you walked past. 

He stands abruptly and pushes you out of the way, then looks at you and sneers, “Excuse you,” as if this is your fault. His shoulder roughly brushes yours and he heads for the hallway bathroom. 

It’s like every bad movie depicting middle school you’ve ever seen, except now you’re a participant instead of a spectator. Everyone is just staring at the both of you: your stunned expression and his back as he walks away. Their eyes all burn into your face and you feel compelled to do something. So before he gets too far, you manage to shout, “Have you any idea the treason you’ve committed, foul mortal?!” 

That seems to grab his attention. He stops dead in his tracks and turns around to look at you, his expression not angry but rather confused. A triumphant grin crosses your face, and you realize that he probably hasn’t heard such lengthy words ever before. But he merely adjusts his glasses, squints, and says, “What?” 

It seems you have the upper hand. You gesture to your lunch on the floor and say, “I had just purchased this. You are required to buy me something for compensation.” 

“I don’t care,” he snaps back, and it occurs that he isn’t lying or scared, he really just don’t care. Hmm. This guy isn’t messing around. You figure if your current tactic isn’t working you should try the offensive, so as he stares at you, you knock his sack lunch off of the table, mixing its contents with your food on the floor. He gapes. “What the hell was that for?” 

You cross your arms and mock his voice. “ 'I don’t care'.” This whole thing is probably a bad idea, and you should probably just sit down, but really, it’s too entertaining. A bit unlike you if anything, but still entertaining. He bares his teeth at you and the next moment the two of you are hitting each other. 

* * *

Gundam probably thinks that what he’s doing is impressive, but it really, really isn’t. The whole fight between him and Souda isn’t really what anyone you know would call a fight. It reminds you of those old Saturday morning cartoons you used to watch where two people started shouting at each other and then just start weakly slapping each other. It doesn’t look much different from it, either. You know that both he and Souda are going to get some trouble for it, either with the teachers or the other peers. They’ll never live it down. 

The “fight” doesn’t last much longer, as Hajime stands and forces the both of them apart. The two boys grumble at each other and step around the food on the floor, returning to their respective seats. Gundam sits across from you, looking hunched over and small, and he locks eyes with you. “That was…something,” is all you manage to get out, and he sighs through his nose, grumbling something and mussing his hair down into his face. You smile a bit sympathetically and push the rest of Chiaki’s carrots towards him. 

Some conversation across the lunchroom stops and when you look up, Souda is gaping at you. You desperately attempt to ignore him, but clearly this doesn’t work, because he walks up to you, mouth still open, and says, “Wait, him? _This_ guy? Are you serious, Sonia?” 

It’s dead quiet at your table, and all eyes are on you. You don’t get a chance to say anything, however, because before you can think of a response Gundam has stood, crossed the room, and the fight has resumed. For some reason, it’s much uglier this time, and much longer, and you don’t think you can watch. You’re too old for this. You’re a grown woman, almost thirteen, and it’s time that people started realizing it. Hajime doesn’t interrupt the fight, though, and it just continues on until a teacher spots the two of them going at it and rips them apart, dragging them both to the office. You cannot believe that your best friend got into a fight on the first day of school. 

Not only that, but you’re pretty sure you’re beginning to develop feelings for the guy. That in itself seems ridiculous while you watch him get heaved away by the collar, shouting all the while. Chiaki sighs next to you and snatches her bag of carrots from the other side of the table where you slid them over to Gundam. She knows about your maybe-affections toward him through a lazy afternoon phone call over the summer. She raises her eyebrows at you and mumbles, “I don’t know what you see in him.” 

* * *

Your mother was not happy about the call she received during work about her son getting into a fight. She tries to lecture you when she gets home, but she’s kind of bad at being harsh, to be honest. After explaining everything – in _excruciating_ detail – she reluctantly takes your side. She makes pasta that night for dinner, and as usual, it tastes horrible: sticky and dry and bland. You tough it out anyways just for her. You wonder why her food is so bad, because to your knowledge, mothers were supposed to be good at cooking. It must be you that’s the problem. You shrug it off. Your body is probably reacting incorrectly to her food and treating it like poison. It sounds like a suitable explanation to you. 

You’re asleep that night when you hear a knock on your window. You sit up, squinting to see what it is, when you see Sonia struggling on the outside to open the latch. You scramble out of bed, careful not to wake your mother by being too loud, and open the window to get her inside. She tumbles onto the floor and giggles a bit, looking up at you with wide eyes. 

It’s right then that you remember you only sleep in your boxers, and she’s never seen you without a shirt on before. You know from personal experience that it isn’t really a sight to behold. Quickly, while she gets up, you snatch your sheet off of the bed and cover yourself, hissing, “What are you _doing_ here at this ungodly hour?” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits, not looking the slightest bit guilty. Her grin is still wide on her face. “It’s only eleven o’clock. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about that fight during lunch today.” She gets up and sits on the edge of your bed, eyeing you expectantly. A sigh escapes your lips and you sit next to her. Her grin widens. “Did you know him?” 

“No,” you mumble after a moment of thought. You look up at her and blow a stray chunk of hair out of your eyes. “He was merely another nameless soul wandering the same halls that I did. Do you know him, princess?” 

Sonia shrugs casually with one shoulder, moving her blonde locks over her shoulder. “I know of him. He and I have history class together. He doesn’t seem too bright…or noticeable.” She smiles at you innocently and you can’t help but return it to her. She speaks her mind so easily that you feel obligated to agree with her. 

“He seems…enamored with you,” you confess after a moment of careful thought, and she seems to take this into consideration. Unknowingly, it bothered you all day. Even as you sat across from him in the main office, forced to apologize to one another, the look in his eye when he spoke told you that your troubles involving him and Sonia were far from over. 

“Maybe,” she ponders, but that seems to be the end of her thoughts. “I don’t think that’s too important right now. Unless you’re worried by it…?” Her innocent smile widens into another grin and she pokes your bare side accusingly. “Are you? Are you?” 

You can’t help but grin guiltily, but you don’t say anything. You cannot admit to liking her like you used to. You are still undergoing training to become The Dark Overlord, and that alone is wearing on your body. Still, you can’t help but admit that that Souda kid is bothering you. 

After she sees that you aren’t going to confess anything, she sighs airily and looks around your room. The purple scarf she knitted you is wrapped around your top bedpost, and she reaches over and runs her fingers against it. “I can’t believe you kept this scarf in such good shape. I made this five years ago. You must never wear it.” 

“Not necessarily,” you shrug, quickly reaching over her and tugging the scarf off of its place on the post. You wrap it around your neck possessively, snuggling your chin deep into the soft wool. “I do my best to take care of it. It is a treasure of mine.” You don’t bother hiding this fact, because you feel no shame in admitting to loving something she gave to you. It reminds you of all of that childhood innocence you were supposed to have growing up. Sometimes you wonder if she stole all of the supposed purity that all children have, and that’s why she’s so joyful. 

But you don’t think about her like that anymore. Well, you aren’t supposed to. Not since you made that dark contract. 

Her face dusts red and she smiles kindly at you, and it radiates. The look in her eyes makes you feel like to her, you’re the most important person in the world. She has that effect on everyone. “That’s flattering, Gundam. I wouldn’t have guessed you liked it so much.” 

The atmosphere is silent for a moment or so, but not tense. Sitting next to her is as easy as breathing, as natural as blinking, and you think you could do it forever. But it isn’t long after she begins to speak that she takes notice of the clock on your bedside table. “Oh, shoot,” she exhales, “It will be midnight soon. I should go.” She turns to you, offering you one more smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, alright?” 

She slips off your bed and looks out the window, calculating her descent. Before she heads out, however, Sonia glances back at you. “You know, Gundam, my knitting skills have improved greatly. I could make you a better scarf than that old one.” 

“No,” you assure her, spacing your words carefully so as to not sound alarmed at the idea, “I prefer this one.” You stand, smirking a bit under your scarf, and give her a theatrical bow. “I bid you goodnight, Lady Sonia.” 

This amuses her, and she giggles a little bit and exits your bedroom. It isn’t until after you’re back in bed and well off near sleep that you realize she laughed because you were half-naked. You can’t keep forgetting about these kinds of things.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so so sorry i've been so busy lately and it's been kind of awful. plus i started rereading some books and playing some games, so some of my dangan ronpa spark is faded, but i'm gonna start working on dangan island in a bit! i started uploading this chapter a while back but my computer restarted so i lost the progress and then kinda stopped...but i have a sick day today (and maybe tomorrow) so i'll be working then! thanks for sticking around, i really appreciate it

You are Sonia Nevermind, fourteen years old, and fast approaching the end of middle school. It’s the middle of April, when the rain is frequent and heavy, yet the sunshine still peaks through enough to remind you to keep going. The school year seems to be slowing down for everyone in your class, and your schoolwork has settled into a relaxed pace. You’ve never heard of anyone being held back from eighth grade; that in itself seems ridiculous. You, yourself, have nothing to fear. 

It’s raining again today, pattering on all of the windows in the lunchroom while you eat. Gundam sits across from you, and Chiaki and Komaeda sit next to you. Ever since the fight in seventh grade, Souda and Gundam haven’t been allowed to sit near each other, talk to each other, or just generally interact at all. It’s seemed to work, but you can still see Souda glaring daggers into Gundam’s back when he isn’t looking. 

“Is that fool still looking at me?” He asks you, spotting as your eyes flit back and forth between him and Souda. You don’t reply right away, instead waiting as he takes a bite of a sandwich from his lunch, his eyes watching you. He decided to stop buying food from school after the fight last year. 

“Yes,” you reply after some hesitation, to which the boy across from you sighs melodramatically. You try instead to patch things up with a little white lie. “But he isn’t glaring at you today! It’s more of a…a stare, I suppose.” When Gundam doesn't reply, instead giving you an almost remorseful expression, you sigh back and know that he doesn’t believe you. 

 Beside you, Chiaki picks up on your conversation and decides to join in. “What, is this about Souda? No, Gundam, he’s definitely still glaring at you. You should probably learn to ignore him…sooner or later you’re going to get into another fight.” 

As if on cue, someone taps your shoulder, and you turn around to see the blazing green eyes of Hajime. He looks reluctant and _very_ unsure of what he’s doing, and overall, rather uncomfortable. “Sonia, uh…hey. Souda wanted me to come talk to you for whatever reason.” Your smile falls just a bit, and he seems like that made him feel even more out of place. “ _He_ wanted to talk to you, not me. Sorry.” 

“Hinata!” you hear, and you all turn to look at Komaeda, who has instantly picked up on the conversation and is also beaming. He gazes at Hajime with nothing but pure, unfiltered admiration in his eyes. “I was looking for you earlier. Do you mind if we talk?” 

Hajime’s eyes seem to light up a bit as well, though it's barely noticeable. “Sure. Come with me, though; I need to buy lunch.” Komaeda stands – a bit too abruptly – and heads with Hajime to the lunch line. You can still hear their voices fade as they walk away. “Do you want to come over later?” 

You hear a muffled, “That’s what I was going to say!” followed by some laughter, and you and Chiaki meet eyes again. She looks a bit skeptical, but smiles at you just slightly. “Komaeda’s in deep, huh?” she murmurs lazily, sipping her can of soda. 

“Yes, he is,” you agree, but then you remember Hajime’s original purpose of coming over here. Souda’s eyes are burning into you now from across the room. He’s waiting, and suddenly your legs feel like lead. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but it feels like there’s a huge hole in the pit of your stomach. 

Gundam’s eyes are heavy on you, as well, though with less anxiety and more caution. You both know that you have to go find out what he wants, or else it’ll only cause more trouble. “Be careful, princess,” he warns, and although the warning itself is unnecessary it’s nice to hear. You nod, grace him a smile, and stand to cross the lunchroom to Souda’s table, where he sits by himself. 

“Sonia!” he says, his tone somewhat reminding you of Komaeda before, though somehow not as endearing. You smile silently, sitting across from him in what you’re convinced is going to be a long conversation. Souda is so nice to you, so sincere, and yet…you feel a bit uneasy around him. It’s probably because of his history with Gundam, which would be enough to make anyone feel awkward. You hope one day that will pass and all of you will be able to get along peacefully. 

“Hello, Souda. Is there something you needed from me?” you ask politely, doing your best to keep up with the manners that you were taught. At that moment, he leans over the table on his elbows, and his glasses fall askew. 

“Uh, yeah. Well, not needed, maybe, but I wanted to, um…” His voice cracks in the middle of his sentence and he turns bright red, instantly shutting up. He stays silent for a little while, only making the pit in your stomach extend deeper. You encourage him with your eyes, urging him to go on, because the longer the two of you wait this out the worse the outcome will be. “I was wondering if, um, well…” he sighs, seemingly impatient with himself, and then blurts everything out as fast as he can, “I was wondering if you wanted to g–” 

The bell rings before he can finish his sentence. You sigh with relief, exhaling a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding on to. When you stand to leave, Souda quickly turns restless, calling out for you to stay so he can finish. You wave it away, repeating to him, “I’m sorry, Souda, I’m sorry, I have a test to get to!” You rush away from his table and go to grab your books, heading to class by yourself. Alright, so you may have lied a bit; you don’t have a test next period, but you do later this week. You feel simultaneously guilty and relieved. 

Gundam catches up to you when you stop at your locker, and his eyes are no less concerned than they were before. “What was it that he asked of you?” You shut your locker, and you see that instead of concern his expression has been replaced with something similar to anxiety. You smile to reassure him.

“It was nothing. I’m not even sure what he wanted; he stuttered too much and he was hard to understand,” you explain, gathering your books in your arms and heading off to class. He walks beside you while you speak. “Anyways, I’m sure now that I’ve left him alone he can find a way to put whatever he wanted to say into better words.” 

“Mmm,” he grumbles in agreement, and he’s quiet for a bit before adding, “Would you mind coming over today? I…require your assistance for this assessment we have this week.” When you look at him, he looks embarrassed, his long, purple scarf falling over his not-too-broad shoulders in ripples. You stand in the doorway of your classroom, and he stands across from you, stiff as a statue. 

“Of course!” you agree, and just as he’s about to say something else, the bell rings, and Gundam races off to his own class. You go to sit in your seat, and all you can think about during class is the fact that it’s really odd that people can’t finish their sentences before the bell interrupts them. It’s almost cliché. 

* * *

You are Gundam Tanaka, fourteen years old, and you are sitting in your bedroom with your best friend, studying for the history test you have later this week. 

Sonia is smart, and she knows it; she proves it to you as the two of you fill out a review packet together. She knows where to look for the answers in your textbook, and if they aren’t in the textbook, she knows how to look the answer up online. For a little while, you think she’s boasting about her knowledge to impress you, but after a good half hour, you realize she’s genuinely proud of herself. It’s a bit endearing, you have to admit. Multiple times you feel her eyes lingering on your face while the two of you work. 

Around seven, she glances at your alarm clock and hums softly, shutting her textbook with a thud. “It’s getting late. I should be heading home.” She gathers her papers, and you hesitate for a moment. 

“It isn’t that late,” you protest, hoping that you don’t sound like you’re whining. “Dusk may be approaching, but the day itself is still early.” Sonia shrugs, and you put up more passive resistance, unsure of how to get her to stay any longer. But just as she picks up her textbook, you hear your mother shout from downstairs to get your attention. 

She’s standing at the base of the steps when you exit your room. Glancing behind you at Sonia, you reply tiredly, “Yes?” 

“Dinner will be ready soon,” your mother tells you, wiping her wispy bangs to the side of her face. “Tonight is chicken. Is it just you and me tonight or is your friend staying?” 

The idea is planted into your head, and it’s a tempting one. You leave your mother at the bottom of the stairs waiting for a response and go again to see Sonia, who is waiting patiently in the middle of your room for your return. She looks at you in wait for a reply. “…My mother is inquiring as to if you are able to stay for dinner.” 

“Oh!” she says, thinking it through for a moment and then grinning widely. It looks like the idea never appeared to her, either. You share the feeling. “That sounds lovely. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would enjoy that, very much so.” Success rings through your body at the sound of her words, and you leave her in your room to confirm with your mother that she’s staying for dinner. 

It’s kind of weird, you conclude after giving the situation a bit more thought. You and Sonia have been friends since you were little, but she’s never stayed in your house this long, nor you hers. But she remains pleasant as she helps you and your mother set the table, even chatting a bit with your mother. As they talk, it occurs to you that their conversation could easily turn into something very, very bad for you. 

* * *

Gundam’s mother doesn’t cook like your mother. Not at all, in fact: you don’t think you’ve ever had chicken where the skin refuses to come apart from the meat. You’ve also never had a meal where the mashed potatoes were too runny to get onto your fork. You don’t want to call it a _bad_ meal, but…well, to be honest, it isn’t entirely enjoyable, either. 

Dinner would be a bad experience overall if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re eating with Gundam and his mother. You don’t know her too well, save for the tidbits that Gundam has given you over the years. She’s very kind, he’s told you, and you can see that when you look at her. There are lines in her face from years of stress and exhaustion, but she doesn’t seem to be that much older than your own mother. But even as she eats her own horrible cooking, she smiles and makes polite table conversation with her son. After their topics are worn out, she turns to you instead. 

“Your name is Sonia, right, dear? From what Gundam has told me about you, you seem to match up with his description,” she speaks, watching you with a curious but not invasive gaze. 

“He talks about me?” You ask, more to yourself than to her. Your eyes widen, and out of the corner of them you see Gundam cautiously take a drink of water, watching the both of you. Gundam’s mother smiles, seemingly amused. 

“Yes, a lot, actually. He told me you were…oh, what was it, Gundam?” She glances at him, but upon seeing his somewhat horrified expression, looks back at you. “He said you were something like a, a…’an angel trapped in a mortal’s body’. That sounds about right.” She smiles, and it warms your heart a bit. Your face gets a bit hotter, but you smile back at her with as much pride as you can muster. “You certainly are very pretty. You look like you’ll be a heartbreaker when you grow up. Maybe you already are…” 

“Th-That’s enough,” you hear Gundam stutter out, and when you see him, he’s twice as red as you are. He’s sunken back into his scarf, refusing to eat any longer. You stop eating for a moment, too, to look at him, but his mother continues with her dinner as if he hadn’t spoken at all. He takes a moment, waiting for his face to cool down, before talking again. “I do not believe that there is anything more to say on the matter –” His voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, flushing him red again, and you giggle. His words echo in your head as you watch him finish his dinner in silence. 

The remainder of the meal is uneventful at most. You and Gundam’s mother go on with easy chatting, refraining from the subject of Gundam. She asks him questions, too, now and then, and he answers begrudgingly, but for the most part it’s just you and her. He was right, you learn; his mother is very kind and has nothing to say but good things and soft replies. 

By the time dinner is over it’s just after eight, and you stay an extra ten minutes or so to help clear the table and put away leftover food (which there is a lot of. You wonder if Gundam eats her meals every day or if he is learning to cook for himself). She thanks you for helping and in return you thank her for the food. After that, you head back up to Gundam’s room to gather up your papers again, and you’re just about to leave when you see him standing in the doorway to his room. 

“Sonia?” he asks, and you feel something in the air change. When you look at him, he doesn’t look any different than normal, but there’s an edge in his voice that makes him appear nervous. You blink curiously, and wait for him to continue. “It may be none of my concern; however…I was interested in what Souda asked of you earlier this afternoon.” As he finishes his sentence, he seems to hold his breath in wait for your response. 

“Oh, Souda?” you hum, the event seeming so long ago. “I actually…I don’t really know, Gundam,” you admit sheepishly, and you smile to try and lighten things up. He just looks confused. “Before he could complete his question, the bell rang, and I went to class. He said something like…oh, what was it? Something about wanting something. I don’t know.” You shrug. 

“Ah,” is all he says, seemingly more quiet than before. 

“Does something about that trouble you?” you say, and in your head something clicks. You vaguely remember coming over to Gundam’s house last year after his fight with Souda, and he seemed to have similar concerns then, too. You remember the question he asked you, and then everything starts to fit together. “Perhaps…do you think he wanted to ask me on a date?” 

“Most likely,” he mutters bitterly, refusing to meet your eyes for a moment. “If that is your wish, if you desired to go on an outing with someone like _him…_ ” Gundam swallows roughly, as if the words are like syrup sticking in his throat. “…If that is the case, then I have no objections. You may do as you like.” 

“…I don’t need your permission,” you reply slowly, somewhat offended yet flattered that he feels that protective over you. He looks alarmed right away at your response, but you keep going. “No, I know I can do as I please. But if that’s what he wanted to say then I would not have said yes.” You smile softly, watching as he gradually and cautiously releases the tension from his body. “You don’t have to worry about me so often.” 

He looks at you, stepping aside from the doorway so that you can pass. As he walks you to the front door, all he says is, “I know.” The words are simple yet for some reason they echo in your head for the rest of the night, even when you step into your own doorway of your own home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> going back and reading my notes is really funny because all of them say "i got busy sorry" lmao  
> well this is where it kinda heats up. not really. but where things begin to turn around

You are Sonia Nevermind, fourteen years old, and you are finally coming back to school after a long summer. You and your parents have just returned home from a vacation in Novoselic – your parents’ home country – spanning most of the latter portion of the season. Being out of the country, you’ve been out of touch with your friends for about a month and a half, including Chiaki, Komaeda, Hajime, and Gundam. Tomorrow is your first day of high school, and to be honest, all you want is to sleep off your jet lag. You pray that you don’t have bags under your eyes for your school picture. 

Chiaki starts texting you about fifteen minutes after you land, asking about how Europe was and if you had anything important to tell her. You reply that it was wonderful and that you wouldn’t have returned without at least one story to tell her. Reluctantly, you admit to her that one night while your parents were out to dinner, you ended up flirting with one of the bellboys your age, and it escalated from there. She asks for no more right now: she wants to hear about it in person. 

Gundam texts you on your ride home, and after the usual questions, he asks to see you. He has so much to tell you, he says, so much that he learned and so many things he now knows how to do. You apologize profusely, telling him that your jet lag is setting in fast, and while you want to slip out your window to talk to him, you’re much too tired and would probably end up hurting yourself on accident. He tells you he understands, then asks if you two will have any classes together. You send him a copy of your schedule and he tells you that you’ll have math, science, history, and lunch together. By the time you start talking about your summers, you’re already snuggled up in your bed. It doesn’t take long before you fall asleep with your phone on your chest. 

The next morning you end up sleeping late, and your parents don’t wake you, having slept in themselves. You throw an outfit on and stuff an apple into your mouth just as your mother wakes up. When you look out your front window, you see the bus at the end of the street pulling away. Your mother drives you, telling you that sleeping in shouldn’t be a normal occurrence and that you have to get used to getting up early. It’s still dark when you walk into the school. 

Your first class is geometry, and you’ve got about ten minutes until the day begins. You take the liberty of pulling out your locker number and combination as you practically run to it. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll have some time to talk to someone on the way there. You’d like to ask Komaeda if he finally worked up the nerve to confess to Hajime, like he’d talked about doing all summer. As you ponder that, you shove your jacket into your locker and slam it shut, then turn to go to class, only to see that someone is watching you. 

“Good morning,” he speaks, and you gape at him. Gundam looks…well, to put it mildly, completely different. He approaches you and you marvel at him, trying to find the words for it. A smirk crosses his lips. “Ah, I see you have taken notice of the new vessel I am occupying. I must say I find it significantly more impressive than the last one." 

His hair is slicked back instead of down in his face like he’s always worn it, and you have to admit to yourself that it looks _good_. It emphasizes his sharp bone structure. There’s also a large scar over his left eye (which is now gray), and he’s got a red contact in the right one. The scarf you knitted him is nestled snugly around his neck and chin. But he looks good with all of it. None of that is what takes you off guard compared to how _big_ he’s gotten. He’s at least half a head taller than you are, even when you’re wearing heels. “You…got taller,” you offer weakly, and he laughs, booming and deeper than it was before. 

“To say the least. It is a bit more difficult for a creature of your mortal nature to be unable to comprehend such a fact.” His vocabulary has also seemingly doubled, you note, and you wonder if this is what he spent all summer learning. Maybe he really did study the dictionary like you always prodded him for. He raises an eyebrow. “Are you able to understand my words, Miss Sonia?” 

 _Miss_ Sonia _?_ You aren’t quite sure where that came from, but you think you like it. You wave it away. “Yes, of course. If I were not capable of understanding you, well, that would be quite a shame, wouldn’t it?” You flash him your best smile, teeth and all, and he _hmms_ underneath his scarf. The two of you begin to walk to geometry together. “Perhaps you could tell me how you incorporated all of these words into your personality later today.” 

“That would be optimal,” he agrees, looking down on you as you walk. The feel of his stare on you is more present than ever, now that he’s so much taller than you are. “I have much to tell you of my studies in the underworld. That is, after all, the location where I spent the months while you were away. I have been enlightened by those who hold the reigns to this withering realm.” You giggle, and for a moment he quirks a smile at you. 

“Perhaps you could show me what you learned after school is over?” You offer, quirking an eyebrow and hoping to get a bit more time with him. “That is, I assume, why you wanted me to visit you late last night, correct?” 

“As much as I would enjoy an assembly between the two of us, I have…prior commitments to partake in once the day has concluded,” Gundam frowned, then gestured for you to enter the classroom first. You sit together in the first row of seats, picking up a syllabus on the way inside. “I have found an activity to engage in whenever I am not trapped here or studying the dark forces that be. The payment that I am given in return for my menial services is quite desirable, even if it is only meaningless possessions handed to me by a frail human male.” 

“Oh, you got a job over the break?” You say, clapping your hands together happily. He nods and wipes the whole ordeal away with a simple “it’s nothing”. But you insist on hearing more. “No, no, you must tell me what it’s like! I don’t think I’ve ever had the opportunity to work somewhere before. I’d like to know!” 

He takes a brief pause, as if weighing the pros and cons of telling you. “If you insist. I am doing what I was born to do, besides to rule over those weaker than I. There are many creatures on this plain besides humans that are in need of dire assistance and that is exactly what I am doing. I attend animals in a shop located within the bustling city.” Gundam runs a hand through his hair, as if he’s bashful of what he’s telling you. He admits after a bit of consideration, “I am quite skilled in their care.” 

“That’s so cool!” You exclaim, and before you can gush any more, the bell rings and the teacher gets up in front of the class. The period goes pretty normally for your first day of high school. Chiaki, who manages to get a seat on your other side, explains as quietly as she can that Komaeda decided not to go through with his confession to Hajime, through her advice. She tells you she thinks it’s for the best, and you think you agree. After the bell rings once more, someone comes up to you. When he speaks you realize you recognize him as Souda, except…completely different. His clothes are brighter, his hair is pink, and his teeth have been filed into points. He tries hopelessly to talk to you, but continues to fall short on topics. You spot Gundam glaring at him as the two of you exit the room. 

* * *

You are Gundam Tanaka, fourteen years old, and your first day of high school has been more fruitful than you could have anticipated. Sonia spends all of lunch telling you about how beautiful the country of Novoselic is, explaining every detail down to how the air felt or how the food smelled. You barely manage to get a word in, but somehow that’s okay, because you could listen to her talk for a while. 

In addition to her tales of Europe, she excitedly tells you some things she may have learned about herself. After a bit of prying she admits to having relations with a teenage boy in that country, and you physically prevent yourself from gaping. _There goes any plans of a virgin sacrifice,_ you think. _Perhaps I will use the annoying pink-haired one._ She also tells you that upon visiting the library of Novoselic, she discovered a large section of writings simply labeled “occult”. She delved into the reading and, as she said, had to be ripped apart from the books before returning home. Naturally, she wants to know more, and she figures you would be a very good teacher. You’re shocked yet flattered, you don’t admit to her, though you wholeheartedly agree. You throw your trash away and part ways for the day. 

The ride to work is, as usual, somewhat agonizing and a bit boring. The usual passengers all blend together on the bus: the homeless college dropout who somehow miraculously has a bus pass, the up-and-coming businessman in an important phone call, the mother bringing her two children to soccer practice, and so on. You’re probably the oddest one out of the bunch to the average eye, but it doesn’t bother you. Ever since you got that scar, people have been staring and they haven’t really stopped. 

Your boss greets you when you walk in with a grunt and tosses you an apron. Sometimes when you’re bored, you like to study him: watch his portly body try and navigate the store without knocking anything over, listen to his grumble of a voice when he talks to customers. You don’t think you’ve actually heard his voice before, just mumblings of what sound like words. You’ve considered the option that perhaps he’s so ridiculously unintelligent that a power such as yourself can’t understand him. It seems like the most likely option. You tell him as you’re tying your apron that you have other things to work on in your spare time and he grunts in approval. 

When you aren’t assisting anyone with something, you take the liberty of checking over the syllabus’ you received for every class. They seem to vary in difficulty, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. For the first week all you have to do is get some supplies, it seems, and the real learning begins next week. After putting your papers away, you do what you normally do: you check all of the cages of the animals, replacing food and water. You interest for the past several weeks has been lingering on a group of hamsters that seem to cling to each other. You reluctantly admit to yourself that you think it's endearing. A fellow employee comes up to you and tells you that your boss wants you at the counter, so you remove one of the hamsters from the group and take her with you. She settles into your muffler as you come to the cash register. 

As you set the tiny creature down onto the counter and watch her play with your finger, the bell at the front of the store rings. You glance up but don’t really pay attention, instead watching as the hamster scuttles up your arm and back into your scarf. A female voice calls for your attention, saying, “Excuse me, sir, could you help me have a look around?” 

“Of course,” you hum, only to look up and see Sonia with her hands on the counter, grinning at you happily. You do a sort of double take. “M-Miss Sonia? Why have you come?” The hamster in your scarf perks up, chattering excitedly in your ear. You glimpse at the small creature, feeling a bit of adoration when you do. The spiritual energy within her is strong, you realize, and she senses something within Sonia. 

“To spend of time with you, of course,” she smiles, then shrugs, as if the decision was the easiest she ever made. “If only a little bit of time. I understand that this is still your “workplace environment”, as it is.” You’re about to say something else – maybe in protest – when she takes interest in the hamster on your shoulder. “Oh…he’s very cute! Does he have a name?” 

“She,” you correct gently, plucking her from the folds of your muffler, “does not bear a title yet, I’m afraid. That may change in the foreseeable future, however. It is extremely possible that we will be brethren in arms one day.” You look at the hamster in your hands, bringing her close to your face. “I shall perform a blood contract with her and her brothers.” The hamster nuzzles your nose, and Sonia laughs melodiously across the counter.  

“Anyways, if you did not mind,” she prompts, leaning over the counter subtly, “I had several questions. We didn’t get a lot of time to talk today, yes? It was much busier of a first day than I anticipated.” You set the creature down, elbows resting on the counter, as the both of you watch her scuttle around. “What happened to your eye, if I may ask?” You look up, and Sonia is pointing to her left eye in reference to yours. 

“Over the agonized heated days of the season, this workplace of mine received a gorgeous winged hell spawn – a fiery blood red Macaw. His gentle soul did not yield too kindly to myself at first, though he was tamed after careful time spent. During one of his meals he grew agitated and dove at me, resulting in this mighty battle scar,” you explain, the tip of your finger lingering on the slightly rough skin of your scar. 

Sonia nods slowly, looking at you as if everything has been cleared up. “That is…unfortunate. I’m sorry,” she murmurs. But she perks up the next moment as if nothing had happened. “Anyways, you seem to enjoy working here very much.” 

“To say the very least,” you hum. 

“You also seem to enjoy that hamster. If you do so much, then why do you not own them already?” Her question strikes a bit close, but you suppose it deserves an answer. She deserves the answer. As you respond, you walk back over to the creature’s cage and replace her with her brothers. 

“I haven’t the sufficient quantity of material to create the blood contract between the five of us,” you admit, watching as the four of them scuttle around in their cage and press kisses to the glass. You glance at Sonia, who is eagerly at your side. “They hunger for the meager souls of men. I shall have to provide for them eventually.” If you were telling the whole truth, you’ve never really owned animals for extended periods of time. You always enjoyed taking care of a class pet for the weekend, and you once helped nurse Nanami’s cat back to health while it was sick, but other than that, you don’t have much experience. 

“Well, if you simply cannot _afford_ it, I am more than obligated to assist you,” Sonia says, speaking a bit slowly, as if she considers every word with equal care. “You may deem it inappropriate to be helped by me financially, but…I am sure that I could help you with all four of them.” She peers into their cage. 

“No…I mean, yes, Miss Sonia, I would consider that rather unsuitable. I must decline you help for the time being, though I do appreciate the offer.” A sigh escapes your lips, dusting the glass in front of you. “It would not be best if I were to use your assets to such an advantage.” 

“Then do not think of it as a favor,” she says, and suddenly shoves her hand into the purse at her side. She digs around for a moment, making a face of concentration, then pulls out a smooth, leather wallet. Your eyes widen. “Consider it a suitable payment in return for some of your services.” 

“For my…services?” You aren’t quite sure where this is going, but wherever it is, it’s escalating quickly. 

“Yes. For this payment,” Sonia practically beams at you, pressing a small stack of money into your palm, “you will teach me the ways of the underworld; of their innermost workings and devices. I much desire to learn of the occult, of humans, of how everything works…” her voice gushes, and you find it endearing. She speaks with the same fervor that you have heard Ibuki use a lot when talking about her music. “It would be quite lovely. Could you do this for me?” 

She folds your hand around the bills and keeps it shut. The four demons in their cage are now pressed to the glass, intrigued by the blonde female across from you. To them, she is a new soul, yet another to hunger and squeal for in the depths of night. But to you, she seems like…so much more than that. “Miss Sonia…” you swallow, eyes focused on the cash in your palm. “Words will never express how fantastic a payment this has been. I shall ensure that when the rapture arrives that you shall be the first I will sweep to safety.” 

Your ears start to grow hot as her eyes sparkle. Sonia giggles a bit, and as your entire face gets red, another employee of the shop shouts for you to stop flirting. It breaks you of your gaze and you grumble something in response, but still turn back to her. “I must advise you to abscond. Your noble presence here would most likely distract me further.” As you speak, you move back behind the counter, concealing the money inside your pants pocket. 

Her lips curl just a bit more to reveal her white teeth, adding a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Of course.” She waves a delicate hand at you as she walks out, ringing the small bell attached to the top of the door as she goes. “Goodbye, Gundam!” 

Later that night, you struggle to explain to your exasperated mother why you’ve come home from work with a box of four hamsters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i was editing this i thought of gundam being in high school. like literally just being in my school. all four years he'd be a bigheaded sophomore oh gundam i love you so much (by the way, as an afterthought, i know gundam's scar is a tattoo. but 1) i didn't know that when i wrote this and 2) that is literally fucking ridiculous. it's so funny. oh my god. i love gundam tanaka)  
> also i have to thank you guys!! i love reading comments so much. not only is it good feedback but i love knowing that people read my stuff. i've almost hit 1k hits on this so thank you all so much!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'll be honest. not much of an update. this is probably the shortest chapter in the whole thing. and i'll be double honest. i really don't like this chapter. this is one of the chapters i went back and wrote in after i had the core of it down. i don't like this one much at all. but it's okay because my favorites are coming up!

You are Sonia Nevermind, fifteen years old, and you are currently walking with your best friend (and hopeless crush) Gundam to the library. As the two of you walk, you ask about how his hamsters are doing, and his booming laughter echoes down the hall as he explains that the blood contract they performed was a success, and they are all doing well. A month or two ago, he gave you a promise that he would teach you the secrets of the underworld. After all, he boasts, he will one day be the Dark Overlord and will “hold the reins of our pathetic society itself”. Today, he has told you, is lesson number one. 

He sits down at a seat across from you, and just as you’re about to speak, he dumps about five books in front of you. All of them are thick, and judging by the size, they must be equally as heavy. Gundam looks at you expectantly, as if _you’re_ the one doing the teaching. But he sits in wait until all you can do is reach across the table and examine the books yourself. You read several of the titles: _Alchemy and Mysticism, The Modern Alchemist: A Guide to Personal Transformation, The Royal Art of Alchemy,_ and so on. They go on and on, but all of them have one thing in common: alchemy. You look up at him. “May I ask what the study of alchemy has to do with the occult, Gundam?” 

“Any aspiring ruler of the mortal plane must have at least a basic knowledge of this fine and ancient art,” he elaborates, stacking up the books in order by size. He starts with the top one, the smallest one, and flips it open. Gundam moves around the table, sitting next to you, and pulls the book up so it’s in front of you both. “We shall begin here. You must have a solid understanding of this before all else.”

Gundam does nothing but talk for the next hour, barely even stopping to get a breath. He starts with the basics, just like he said he would; it begins with the origins of alchemy, then its components, then exactly what it is and how to perform it. Around the end of the hour, he shuts the book ( _finally,_ you exhale) and says, “Our time has ceased, but before we must depart, I will instruct you on how to draw up the necessary image of a transmutation circle.” 

“Alright,” you humph, sitting up and pushing up your sleeves with determination. He takes a loose leaf of paper from in between one of the books and a pencil, and begins to draw. You watch his face as he does: concentrated and even, as if what he’s doing right now is more important than anything. You keep your eyes on him long enough that when he looks back up and says something, you’re confused. “What?” 

“Replicate this,” he repeats, and shakes the paper in his hand for emphasis. You take the paper into your own hands, and there’s a beautiful, intricate and symmetrical circle right in the middle of the page, drawn with ease. He waits for you, and you could probably duplicate it messily, but you would rather not pass up the opportunity. 

“…Could you assist me?” you ask, if not a bit sheepishly. He merely hums in response, low in his chest, and reaches across you for another sheet of paper. For a moment the two of you are almost touching, and you can smell his skin and clothing from where you sit. Then the scent is gone just as quickly as it arrived, leaving you dizzy in the mind. You think he’s doing this on purpose. 

* * *

 

You are Gundam Tanaka, fourteen years old, and you have never realized until this very moment how difficult being a teacher is. 

Sonia is wonderful, and you would definitely call her a quick learner, but she has made you realize that if you were to ever pursue a job in education, that it would be the wrong choice. You feel as if you must go back to the very beginning of your knowledge, when you yourself were learning. Sometimes you slip up and say something far beyond her beginner’s level, and she looks at you with wide, confused blue eyes. You quickly apologize and move on. 

Despite the fact that teaching is not what you would call “enjoyable”, Sonia is taking genuine interest in the art of alchemy. Now and then she asks questions, and the answers make her eyes light up. That sort of makes it all worthwhile, you suppose. Maybe one day her intellect in these arts will match up to yours, and the two of you will rule in a dual monarchy of hellish proportions. The thought makes you smirk. 

At the end of this impromptu “study session of the occult”, you are about to conclude, but you can’t do so without teaching her a basic transmutation circle. Its purpose is simple: whenever it is performed, another being with similar spiritual powers in them will be notified or alerted to her presence. She asks if it has ever worked for you, but you begrudgingly reply that you’ve never met anyone with spiritual powers that match up to yours. She smiles brightly and says, “I hope to be the first.”  

You’re sure to draw a beautifully practiced transmutation circle on one of the pieces of paper laying on the table. Despite its simple purpose, it’s one of the more intricate designs. Still, you pull it off without any hardship, and you admire it silently. “Replicate this,” you tell her. She’s silent, a bit unfocused, before she gives you a sheepish expression and asks for your help. 

With a bit of a low hum, you reach over her for another sheet of paper and lay the other one in your hand out in front of the both of you. For a moment when you’re reaching you think you hear her breath hitch in her throat, nearly silent, invisible to the air. It was so quick and short, in fact, that you may have been wrong in assuming what you heard. Yes, that was most definitely it. 

When you begin to replicate your own work, you hear her huff in displeasure. Looking over at her, her lips are pursed and she’s staring at her hands. “Could you possibly show me…closer?” As Sonia speaks, she scoots her chair closer, and her chest nearly touches your arm. You resist the urge to jerk away. “I understand the basic shape of it, but…I believe it should feel _natural_.” She looks again at her hands, then at your hands, and bites her lip while she flicks her gaze from them to you, as if asking for permission. 

“Miss Sonia, I would advise you against any form of contact with a dark lord such as myself,” you instruct carefully, and she only frowns deeper. “Beneath my hardened skin, a deadly poison runs through my veins which would paralyze – perhaps even murder – any mortal upon even an accidental touch.” 

“It wasn’t like that when we were younger,” she says, her voice seemingly smaller than before. Something about that sentence strikes you as either wrong or offensive. It seems like a tasteful way of saying “you’ve changed”. You persist regardless. 

“Because of our extended bond, Miss Sonia, our contact has been even more frequent than the average nobody or wandering soul. Your prolonged exposure to my form has most likely been harmful to you even in the first place.” 

“Well,” she supposes, piecing her logic together as she speaks, “perhaps this ‘prolonged exposure’ you speak of means that I have simply developed an immunity to this poison in your body. And perhaps I was never a mortal in the first place!” With her last sentence she grins, showing all of her teeth, and it looks like she has figured out a puzzle that has plagued her for so long.   

That leaves you without a good response. Sonia has a point, you realize, so you exhale a bit and relent, “I suppose those are both equal possibilities.” With that, you hand her the pencil and carefully (and a bit cautiously) wrap her hand around yours. 

It’s warm. _She’s_ warm. For a minute you’re so distracted with the fact that the two of you are touching you forget what you’re supposed to be doing. But you’re worried that she’ll stare at you expectantly and question if you’re alright, so you push aside all thoughts of Sonia’s hand, instead thinking of it only as a tool. You guide her as smoothly and easily as if it were your own hand doing the work, and manage to almost perfectly replicate the first circle. 

As you draw, you explain what must be done to perform the spell correctly. “I will allow you to keep both copies of this image in your possession, because I myself own many. In order for the enchantment to be properly completed, you must acquire a singular kind of chalk ground from the bones of Cerberus, guardian of the underworld. It is most difficult to find, so I will assist you when the time is right.” 

“I look forward to learning more,” she smiles, looking at you with such pleasure in her eyes that you wonder if she was listening. “This is all so noble, such a high art, that it must have taken years for you to perfect, Gundam. It is rather impressive.” With some hesitation, you smile a bit, letting her see this time. When she pulls away, her hand squeezes yours so lightly that you, again, may not have noticed or have been mistaken. But it’s so gentle and brings you back to the fact that her hand is so warm, so soft, _and smooth_. You lock eyes. You think she’s doing this on purpose.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO TODAY IS PRINCE GUNDAM TANAKA'S BIRTHDAY AND HOW COULD I NOT DO ANYTHING no literally i forgot so thank you tumblr for reminding me. i was so excited when i found out. so to celebrate in my own way have a chapter of this  
> okay this is one of my favorite chapters. srsly. i edited this chapter over and over again. and i can tell you that some of this (minus the drinking) was taken from personal experience, so that made it even better

You are Sonia Nevermind, sixteen years old, and attending the first real high school party you’ve ever been to. 

Tonight was the closing night of your schools spring play, which was, of course, a huge success. Komaeda convinced you to audition around the time school started, and although you were reluctant, you ended up with a wonderfully large part and a great experience to go along with it. This is your third play in high school, and though your last two were fun, this production was probably your favorite. Ever since you got the part you haven’t stopped thanking Komaeda. 

You’ve never gone to a theatre party before, but you’ve heard they can get exciting. Komaeda has managed to weasel his way into every party since the beginning of your high school career (even the plays he wasn’t in) and has returned with some amazing stories. Ibuki once broke a couch trying to both dance and sing along to some techno pop music during the freshman year musical. Akane was said to have once back flipped across the entirety of the host’s house for five minutes straight. Komaeda has never told you what he himself had done at those parties, but considering how he normally is, you aren’t sure you really should ask. 

The host this time around is Leon Kuwata, a sophomore with a hair color straight from the bottle. You’ve seen him around the halls and can gather a general impression of him extremely quick. He’s rarely seen without his varsity jacket (only one letter: baseball) which he keeps impeccably clean. You’ve heard that he auditioned for theatre just to "try something out" – which was of course code for get the girls – and to his surprise, he managed to scramble up a role. He declared during the first read-through of the script that after closing night there would be “the biggest, noisiest, most annoying party anyone has ever been to” at his house. He seemed pretty enthusiastic during the duration of rehearsals, despite having one of the smallest parts in the play. 

Okay, so his house _is_ very large and very impressive. You’re pretty sure that even though it’s only supposed to be a theatre party, others are tagging along anyways for the hell of it. Gundam sits in the passenger’s seat of your red two door car, glancing at you nervously. “Miss Sonia, this appears to be a most horrible idea that you have conjured up.” 

For a minute or so there’s no noise in this small space between you except the almost muted noise of the radio. He takes a breath, and so do you. “This may be a bit unreasonable, yes, but it’s only one party,” you encourage, putting your car into park. He still seems unconvinced. “I know how you are with others, Gundam, but I still believe that one outing every now and then will not be harmful to you. In fact…” your pause guides his gaze towards you, and you stare at the steering wheel. “I was hoping you could be present tonight in case something were to happen to me. You see, I myself have never been to one of these parties.” 

He stutters – or at least, you _think_ you hear him stutter – before a response falls from his lips. “If a lady of your status requires the presence of the almighty Gundam Tanaka to make her feel safe, than who is he to judge? No, that is left up to the old Gods and the new for the decision of the fate of a mortal woman.” A booming laugh shakes the car, and you smile, feeling reassured in some odd way. 

“Yes, that is true,” you agree, and the car purrs to a stop as you turn the key. Quickly, you take a moment to fix your hair in the mirror before you and Gundam get out of the car. It locks with a beep, you head up the sidewalk, and the two of you are left standing in front of the massive house of Leon Kuwata. You always knew you yourself had a nice house, but nothing compares to the sheer size of his. 

It takes a moment before you’re back in the right mindset to ring the doorbell. Neither of you tear your eyes from the door until someone finally opens it. You assume that someone to be Leon, although his letter jacket is absent and his collar is wildly askew. He takes a moment to look at you and then at Gundam (though he seems to spend a bit more time on you). For whatever reason that is, you smile anyways. 

“Sonia,” he drawls, in that somewhat obnoxiously overdramatic voice he’s been using for weeks. You continue to smile politely. “And…um, who the hell is this?” He gestures shakily to Gundam, and you spot a bottle in his hand. No wonder he’s so off his balance. 

You’re about to answer when Gundam’s voice rumbles deep from behind his scarf. “Her escort.” Almost protectively he moves a bit closer to you, but he keeps his arms crossed defensively. He may be taking the whole situation a bit too serious, but you remain quiet. Gundam only attended the performance; he didn’t work on it at all. You hope that this kid is too dense to realize that. Leon frowns visibly, furrowing his brow. 

“Alright, alright, that’s fine, man,” he hums, running one hand through his dyed and gelled hair. He steps aside without anything else to say, motioning for you to come in, and you both oblige. After finishing the bottle with a gasp, he slurs, “My parents aren’t home, so don’t break too much shit.” Leon’s house is gigantic, with a spiral staircase swirling to an upper level that juts out over the front lobby and the living room. After looking around for a bit, you see that a few people are quietly talking and lounging on the sofas in the living room, and even a couple are sitting on the large granite counters in the kitchen. Most of the action, however, seems to be taking place in the basement; you can hear the deep bass boom and the heavy conversation even while you’re standing at the top of the steps. Gundam trails behind you as you explore (within your boundaries, of course), muttering things now and them to himself. Absently, you wonder where Leon got that bottle. 

You look almost longingly towards the basement, where an array of colorful lights is spewed across the walls like rainbow vomit. Gundam must notice your want to be down there and just see what it’s like, because he hums deeply and says, “You needn’t worry about leaving me alone, Miss Sonia. I am capable of defending myself.” 

“Thank you,” you grin quickly, and pad down the carpeted steps into the basement. You glance up at him before he’s out of sight only to find that he isn’t standing in the doorframe any longer. Now you are truly alone, and yet you’ve never seen so many people congregated into such a ridiculously cramped area.   

The room itself isn’t small, but there isn’t much open space. Just as you thought, there are strobe lights scattered everywhere, blinking multiple colors bright enough to hurt someone. It’s a bit sweatier than you’d imagined, but it seems to fit the atmosphere. Besides the odor of perspiration lingering in the air, you smell cheap beer, like Leon had broken into his parent’s secret wine cellar and divulged in the goods within. Unfortunately, that seems to be exactly what he did. 

Speaking of Leon, he wades through the crowd and comes up to you, spotting you staring absently at the mass of bodies. There’s a new bottle in one hand and an unopened one in the other, and with no words, but instead a shit-eating grin, he hands you the unopened bottle of beer. 

One or two can’t really hurt you, you think to yourself as you accept the chilled bottle. Besides, Gundam is here, and you trust him. You’ll be fine. 

* * *

You are Gundam Tanaka, sixteen years old, and goddamn do you hate parties. 

They were never your thing, you guess. Not really. You’d been to the occasional birthday party every now and then for Sonia or Hinata, but nothing quite this massive. The amount of people in this house is overwhelming, and you’re constantly aware of just how close anyone gets to touching you. Most of the people present are people you’ve barely ever spoken to, but it gives you a comforting anonymity that not a lot of people here seem to have. That in itself is something to hold on to. 

Once you and Sonia parted, you manage to find refuge in the quieter part of the basement in the home bar. The wine cabinets are open and the fridge is periodically raided by people who seem to be drunker than the last. All around you is the putrid stench of teenage hormones and forgotten beer cans. You can’t remember where this hatred of social gatherings came from, but you’re pretty sure it stems from the fact that you don’t really enjoy “hanging out” with mortals. From the other room, you can hear the sound of fast paced techno music and screeching electronics. 

You’ve been nursing a diet drink for about ten minutes now, taking absent sips here and there in between drunken couples bounding into the room to grab more alcohol to chug. To be honest it’s rather interesting, knowing that you’ve been going to school with all of these people for however long, and you’ve never seen any of them so unwound. The oldest person at the party is at the most nineteen, so everyone is dangerously young to be drinking so much. It’s probably living in the moment, or whatever. You never really did that either. 

When you get up to grab another soda from the minifridge under the bar, you’re met with eyes staring back at you from the floor. She’s sitting up against the fridge, a game in her lap as she gazes at you with no readable emotion in her eyes whatsoever. 

“Gundam,” Nanami hums, resuming the activity in her lap with pixelated noises and grunts. You don’t seem to be much of a source of interest from her, which you suppose is understandable. With the goal of your new soda discarded, you sit on the tile floor across from her and simply listen to her play. 

“I was not made aware of your presence in the theatrics department,” you try after a while of silence. It stretches on anyways until she replies, not bothering to pause her game this time. 

“Yeah,” she mumbles, and is quiet for a bit longer before following up with, “I worked in the sound booth. I figured I should attend at least one of these parties, though I can’t see what all of the hype is about…” 

“No, this is remarkable,” your voice breezes out of your lips, dripping with sarcasm. “I simply cannot comprehend the appeal of these absurd gatherings. When the day of reckoning arrives with its screaming chariot driven by the four horses of the apocalypse, I am quite sure that many of the bodies currently in this abode will not live to see the sun.” 

She hums absently and the conversation is over. You aren’t sure how long this “party” is going to last, but you hope it isn’t much longer. It’s an unspoken rule that you have a midnight curfew, even though you don’t normally go anywhere anyways. For a moment you wonder why Sonia wanted you to watch over her if she was just going to go off on her own, but it doesn’t concern you fully. You sit quietly and listen to Nanami play her game. 

* * *

 

The room is sort of swimming, you think. You aren’t sure if it’s the walls or the bodies, but all of the moving is making you feel airy and light. You’ve been dancing and bumping against the masses for who knows how long now, a bottle of beer in your hand. Before now you’ve never had any sort of alcohol, except for maybe a sip of wine your father let you have at fancy restaurants when you were twelve. In some ways, this could very well be breaking their trust, but aren’t teenagers supposed to be able to push the boundaries? 

Besides, you have Gundam. At least you think you do. It feels like it’s been hours since you’ve started dancing, yet the number of people has only increased. Leon disappeared long ago to try and hook up with that blue-haired choir girl and no one has seen him since. He was either incredibly successful or he horrendously failed. 

Akane appears next to you, her stage makeup smeared and slick on her skin. There’s a bottle in her hand, as well, and she holds it so tightly that you wonder what number bottle she’s on. Her eyes are bright and excited, yet the rest of her body slumps with exhaustion. “Sonia,” she nudges into you with her hip, and you wade off of the dance floor, leaning against the wall for balance. 

“Hey,” you manage, a giddy grin breaking across your face. She returns the look and clinks her bottle against yours. 

“So, you know Nidai, on the wrestling team?” She can hardly contain herself. 

“Yeah, yeah,” a giggle escapes your lips. You’re pretty sure you know where this is going, but you let her go on anyways. “He isn’t _here_ , is he?” 

“He is!” Akane laughs, gripping the bottle even tighter than before. Excitement rises in her voice, and you laugh along with her to show her just how excited you are. “He crashed it and that dumbass hosting it didn’t even notice. So, get this,” she leans in, her words speeding up yet voice quieting down, and you’re compelled to lean in, too. “He bumps into me at the top of the steps and I do that whole ‘whoa, what’s up?’ thing, and we talk for a while, dance, drink, and then he _asked me out_!” 

“Like, on a date?” You gasp. This is a big deal. Akane has had a thing for Nidai since she watched one of his matches freshmen year. 

She begins to drag you back up the steps to where the food is lain out in the kitchen, talking all the way. The both of you have to hold on to each other in order to make it up there successfully, but once you’re there, Akane stuffs pizza roll after pizza roll into her mouth while going on about all of the details. This drags on for fifteen minutes, though you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it. She eventually leaves, saying she wanted to go find him. You’re reminded of someone – Gundam is still here – and you set out to find him, too. 

* * *

While sitting with the silent Nanami was enjoyable for a bit, you quickly grew bored of the wordless air between the two of you. You understand that there wasn’t really anything to say in the first place, and that you really have no reason to be down on the floor with her. Realizing that reminds you to get the hell off of the floor, because Gods knows what has happened down there before. You don’t want to know. 

For a moment, you consider heading back upstairs and seeing if you could get something to eat. You haven’t had anything since a bit of popcorn during the show, and even that was just a handful or two. But to go upstairs, you’d have to wade through the room where most of the action goes down. There were people dancing in there the last time you passed through, so it must have escalated by now. There’s probably grinding, drinking, _kissing_ …well, you guess you aren’t leaving the bar. 

But just as you go to sit back on the stool, you hear her voice, echoing in from the adjacent room. She’s calling your name. “Gundam!” It rings, and she eventually finds her way in to where you are. Upon seeing you, her lips stretch into a wide grin, bearing teeth and all. “Gundam,” Sonia sighs, eyes meeting your face. She moves closer, empty hands grasping the air just in case she’s in need of balance. 

This must have been what she meant when she requested you as an escort. You aren’t sure whether or not to be offended or concerned, but her presence distracts you from finding an answer. Behind the counter, you hear Nanami pause her game to listen. As much as you’d like to tell her it’s none of her business, right now, you don’t have a choice but to hear what Sonia has to say. 

“I was looking for you,” she breathes, finally steadying herself by gripping your forearms. Her touch feels warm, even through your thick sleeves. There’s a faint stench of alcohol riding her words, yet you smell a mint in her mouth as well. She must be trying to cover it up: for whatever reason, you don’t know. Nanami’s presence weighs heavier now. 

You swallow tightly, slipping one of her hands off of your arm and adjusting your scarf. “What deed do you require done, Miss Sonia?” She reaches up and takes a gentle hold of the cloth around your neck. Her grip is soft, but purposeful. Your breath hitches; she’s never been quite this bold with you. 

“Come dance with me,” Sonia urges, her eyes not leaving yours. You’re reminded of that day in kindergarten when she asked you to sit with her, Akane, and Nanami, and the feeling doesn’t really differ from this. You’re formulating a response when she adds, “Please, just for a little while? After this we can leave. I promise. I just want to dance with you.” 

Silence seems almost unbearable to her. She shifts her weight back and forth on her feet while she waits for your response, trying not to appear antsy. While you still consider yourself bad at this whole “social scene” thing, she’s right: it’s only for a little while. You relent and agree, watching as her entire face lights up and she practically drags you back into the other room.  

The next thirty minutes are the most surreal of your life. Sonia Nevermind appears before you as an entirely different woman, and you aren’t sure where it came from or how it happened. You’ve always been a horrible dancer with no rhythm, but she doesn’t seem to be paying attention to that. She only focuses on you and it makes you forget about everyone else in the room. Her gaze seems somewhat clouded, but also making a serious attempt to focus. Even while you dance she doesn’t tear her eyes off of you, and you feel watched, yet almost flattered. Her body moves and sways to the beat of the songs, and at times she almost looks lost in the music. The last song that plays is slower than you’d like, but she takes your hands and it all feels okay again. You spin to the music, only seeing her face with the room blurred around it. When that last song ends, she hugs you, her chest soft and warm against yours. 

“Thank you,” she says when she pulls away from you, and that concentration she had before is now gone. Sonia’s face is hazy, but her smile seems so kind that you quirk a quick smile back before anyone can really see. 

To your relief, she keeps her promise, heading up the stairs as soon as you break apart. You both slip on your shoes (though she takes a bit longer) and head outside into the cool evening air. The clock on your phone tells you that it’s a bit after one, which isn’t surprising at all. Your mother won’t be happy, but you think you can find a good explanation on the ride home. 

Sonia leans heavily against the door of her car, staring at the empty driver’s seat, before you realize what she’s about to do. “Miss Sonia,” you find your voice, and she looks up at you slowly, absently. Taking your time, you make your way around to the other side of the car. “Please, allow me. It would be highly inappropriate for you to be the source of our transport in your current inebriated state.” 

Without a word, she hands you her keys and shuffles around to the passenger’s seat. You weigh them in your hands for a moment, listen to their jingle, before you slip inside and turn the key. The engine purrs to a pleasant start, and the sound of her belt clicking brings you back to reality. You don’t exactly get many chances to drive: you usually let your mother use the family car, and you only received your license a few months ago, anyways. The pressure is only a bit heavier with the fact that Sonia trusts you to get the two of you home safely. 

Pushing all personal feelings aside, you edge out of your packed parking spot on the side of the street and coast along the neighborhood. Leon lives in the rich side of the town, about fifteen minutes from the high school, and about twenty from the suburbia that is your home. The streets are, of course, empty, yet at this point you’re so late that you see no reason to rush. 

Around ten minutes into the drive home, you hear something unclick, and you glance over out of the corner of your eye. Sonia is undoing her seatbelt, rolling her head with a bit of a groan. “Hmm…while I enjoyed tonight, I don’t believe that alcohol is for me.” Her voice is low and tired, matched with a languid smile as she stretches. With a sigh, she scoots down, leaning to rest her head on the outside of your thigh while you drive. 

“That’s good,” you manage after a long moment, focusing twice as hard on the road in front of you now. Sonia relaxes against your leg, yet her head feels heavy. You’re tense, but she seems to be fine. She also doesn’t seem to feel the need to speak anymore, instead settling on listening to the hum of the car. Pulling safely into your cul-de-sac feels like a blessing. You inch up the car right in front of her mailbox and park, and for the first time since Sonia rested her head on your thigh, you breathe. 

She sits up, hair a bit disheveled, curled around her face in lazy ringlets. “Thank you for coming with me, Gundam,” she hums, wiping her eye softly. “I appreciate it. If it hadn’t been for you I might not have been able to return home safely.” 

In that moment your fear of human contact vanishes into the air, and you’re overwhelmed with the sudden and surprising desire to kiss her. You start to lean in, heartbeat slamming in your ears, but she presses a gentle finger against your lips. For a moment rejection swells in your chest, but the look on her face reassures you. “Not now,” she whispers, voice delicate as glass, “not like this. I want to be able to remember it perfectly.” But she leans in anyways and presses a kiss to her finger on top of your lips. 

The two of you exit her car, and you hand Sonia her keys. She only glances at you, but when she does you feel confidence resonating through your chest. She’s had that effect on you a lot recently. The car locks behind you as you watch her disappear around to the back of her house to sneak inside through her window. 

Still in a daze, you head down the sidewalk in the direction of your house. The lights are on inside, and explaining to your mother is going to take some time, but you feel too airy to have any reality of the situation. You think you just got your first kiss. Or, if that didn’t count, the promise of one. 

* * *

Your parents don’t hear you come in. Slipping in through the window was probably a smart choice; when you get into your room, the house seems dead quiet. They must have gone to bed around ten, as usual. If they ask what time you came home, you’ll answer honestly. But _only_ if they ask. You manage to slither through the halls to get yourself a drink of water and slide your shoes off by the door.  

It doesn’t take long before you’re asleep in your bed, curled up amidst a tangle of sheets and blankets. Your hand is gently grasping the edge of the silk canopy that surrounds your bed, and after such a long night, you’re glad to get some rest. You don’t even have the energy to change out of your clothes. But you only get to sleep for about an hour and a half before a _clack_ ing sound wakes you up. 

You sit up, groaning a bit as you do. The giddiness of the alcohol has worn off and it’s been replaced with a drowsy, omnipresent ache that drags down your body. You glance over and see that there are pebbles being thrown at your window. Confused and somewhat vexed, you slip out of your bed with the sheets around your shoulders and look outside. 

Gundam stands at the base of the tree outside your window, tossing little bits of rocks at your window and waiting for a response. You grin at him through the glass and crack the window opening, calling as quietly as you can to him, “Could you be any more cliché?” 

“The Almighty Gundam Tanaka does not abide by the rules set by puny mortals,” he speaks, low and confident and a bit serious, but he breaks and quirks a grin at you from the ground. “I had unfinished business with you, my lady.” 

“Then get up here,” you murmur, motioning for him to climb the tree. He nods and goes to hug the trunk, and while he does, you race to your bedroom door and peer into the hallway. All of the lights are still off in your house, including your parent’s bedroom if you squint. The digital clock beside your bed blinks at you, alerting you that it’s 2:17 a.m. on Sunday morning. You aren’t exactly in the mood to be awake, but you can put it aside for Gundam. 

From outside your window you hear grunts as he struggles to climb. He weakly scrabbles himself up the tree, like a declawed kitten. He never really was one for physical activity, you remember, so when he gets to the branch beside your window, you lean out to help him. He makes one last jump for the window sill and you haul him inside before he can find a way to hurt himself. He steadies his breathing on your bedroom floor, and you help him up, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“…I wanted to check up on you,” Gundam admits after a moment of hesitation. His eyes fail to meet yours, but you encourage him with a gentle smile. “To confirm that your heavenly vessel had not deteriorated into a state where it was unable to function.” 

“Of course. I believe the intoxication has worn off,” you confirm, placing your hands on top of his. His hands are clammy and cold, so you get the impression he’s nervous. He pulls away and you hear him swallow. You can’t help but be the slightest bit amused. “…Is there another reason you’re here?”

He doesn’t reply. You think you see the tips of his ears begin to darken, and it spreads to his cheeks in no time. “You can tell me,” you urge, but he seems to be silent. It takes a bit of searching for you to remember. But when you do, you smile at him slyly. “You demon, Gundam. I see how it is.” He’s about to protest and speak when you lean in and press your lips to his to make him quiet. 

For a moment he doesn’t respond, and you begin to pull away, but when you lean away for a breath he meets you halfway. His lips are soft and you can tell where he chews at them when he’s anxious, only making you want him more. You hold on to his arms and increase the pressure just a bit. You’re glad that you picked now to do this; even if it isn’t completely perfect as you might have wanted, he seems to be melting in your touch. 

“S-Sonia,” he mumbles, pulling back for a breath, and the stutter in his words is precious. When you finally do pull away, having convinced yourself that that is as far as you’re going to go, he gives you a meek look. You’re afraid for a moment that you’ve startled him, but when he brushes his fingers across his lips and his chin, he blushes again. He’s still nervous, but his eyes finally meet yours, almost looking like he’s asking for permission. You giggle, and he leans in hesitantly, eyes fluttering shut once again, and kisses you. You wonder how long the two of you have been waiting for this: from the sound of his heartbeat along with yours, you can assume it’s been a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> never fall in love at a theatre party. literally. a lot of this happened to me i danced with this guy i was crazy about and we slowdanced awkwardly to rihanna or something but it was great. theatre parties are really messy like that
> 
> also thank you for over 1k hits!! im honored that this dinky little fic of my otp has gotten so far uwu


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao havent posted a single thing since gundams birthday but happy birthday to my love hajime hinata 
> 
> i've been writing other things which is why i haven't posted lately but they're all good things. fluffy and self-indulgent

You are Sonia Nevermind, sixteen years old, and today was your last day of school. You can now proudly proclaim that you are no longer a Sophomore, an underclassman, but instead you are a Junior, an upperclassman with more responsibility and more freedom. After school was over and you escaped from your last exam, you, Akane, and Chiaki all drive out to lunch at your city’s local diner to celebrate. You all get sodas and share a plate of fries and chicken strips. You and Chiaki spend most of the time discussing your various test answers while Akane eats most of the food you all bought. 

After she finishes eating, Akane fires a barrage of questions at you about the theatre party, even though it was weeks ago and she was there. When you answer a few questions and she says she doesn’t remember, Chiaki explains (more than once) that there’s a reason for that. “It’s obvious that he’s liked you for a while, you know,” she hums in your direction, taking a drink of her Dr. Pepper. 

“Huh? Nah, it was _way_ easier to see that _she_ liked Gundam, Chiaki,” Akane butts in, leaning her elbows on the table. She turns back to you. “Wasn’t it weird or anything? Kissing your best friend?” 

“Slightly,” you admit, deep in thought, “now that I consider it.” It is kind of weird, you realize, but the weirdest part of it was that it felt so natural – for the both of you – that you didn’t think twice about it until someone else brought it up. 

“Has anything, like, changed between the two of you?” 

“Not really,” you chirp back, and Akane raises her eyebrows, seemingly in disbelief. Nothing really had changed, to be quite honest; neither of you were very sure what you could call your relationship, but you knew that you had grown closer. The subject dies down for a bit until Chiaki is the one to start the conversation up again. 

“I asked Hinata on a date last week,” she murmurs calmly, despite the reactions she gets from you and Akane. 

“ _What_?” you gape, leaning in along with Akane. “You told me in seventh grade that you didn’t like him! Were you not telling the truth, or…?” 

She shrugs nonchalantly, smiling a bit at the attention. “I figured it would be a nice change, you know…?” Chiaki glances over at Akane. “I mean…you and Nidai have been dating for a couple of weeks, and, well…” she only grins at you. “But the date was last Saturday night.” 

“What’d you guys do?” Akane asks eagerly. 

“We went to see that new movie that came out, you know, the revamp about Godzilla and Mothra and stuff…? Yeah, I liked it; it reminded me of those old SNES fighting games I used to play as a kid. But he said it was too loud and that that much noise would probably give him a headache…when we got out of the theatre he said it was fun,” she talks, a bit slower than usual, and while Akane probably thinks she’s thinking about her dream night with Hajime, you know she’s probably just remembering the movie. 

“So?” you prompt. “How did it end?” 

“The movie? Oh, they both destroyed each other in the end but Mothra –” 

“Not the movie,” Akane sighs, and you giggle a bit, “the date.” 

“Oh,” she hums again, and takes her time in answering, swirling her straw in what’s left of her soda. “I told him I thought it was fun, too, but I didn’t really feel anything special. I mean…I like Hinata, I always have. But I guess…I guess I don’t like him like I thought I might’ve. Besides,” she grins, leisurely and absentmindedly, “leaves Komaeda with more of a chance, I guess.” 

For the remainder of the meal the three of you talk about your plans for Junior year, all of them momentous. You bring up the Junior prom, but Akane shrugs about it, saying that she went this year with a friend from another school and it wasn’t all that. Chiaki noticeably brightens, saying that she always wanted to make her own prom dress, and she seems so excited by the notion that she says she has to leave to start making sketches of it. After that, it’s just you and Akane. She offers to buy you another plate of fries to share, but you politely decline, insisting that she take it herself. You leave shortly after. 

You arrive at home only to find out from a note on the counter that your parents are working late and will be home around nine. The house is empty, and while you’ve got it all to yourself, you don’t really feel like going out again just to be out. Turning on the TV, you plop down onto the couch and pull out your phone to type in a text. 

 _hey gundam!! are you working? :8_ , you send, and then patiently wait for his reply. He’s moderately good with technology – running a blog about animals is one of his pastimes – but he’s still learning how to use his new phone, and he’s slow with texting. About ten minutes after sending the message, you finally receive one back. 

_No I am not working. Also what is this :8 that you have sent_

The reply makes you laugh a bit. _nothing nothing. you should come over!! stay the night in celebration of our last day_

It takes even longer this time for him to reply. _I shall be over within the hour_ _  
_

Without sending a reply, you jump up and rush upstairs to pick up your room. It isn’t a disaster, but not suitable for company, what with clothes strewn all over the place and your bedding on the floor. By the time you can finally make it up, you still have to bring all of your laundry downstairs and hide it in the laundry room. You’ll do all of your chores tomorrow when Gundam leaves. Just as you start putting your clothes into the hamper in the corner, the doorbell rings, and you try not to rush back to the front door.

Gundam stands outside on your porch, and although this is far from the first time he’s been in your house, he still lingers awkwardly, staring at the plants around the sidewalk. When he sees you, though, you see some of the tension disappear from his shoulders, and you smile and invite him inside. “Miss Sonia,” he greets you as he slips off his boots. “Are there any particular activities you would like to engage in in…celebration, as you call it, of the end to another year?” 

Your mind wanders a bit to what Chiaki was talking about earlier in the diner. It makes you grin, and you begin to ascend the stairs while he follows behind you. “Perhaps we could watch a movie.” 

* * *

You are Gundam Tanaka, sixteen years old, and somehow you have ended up on the floor of Sonia’s bedroom watching one of your (admittedly) favorite movies while she has her head on your shoulder. You aren’t really sure how it happened; one minute she was rifling through her DVDs and the next she had consented to it without so much as a second glance. 

You’d never admit it to anyone – maybe not even Sonia – but you’ve always felt so strongly about the movie _Phantom of the Opera._ When you were younger, you asked your mother repeatedly if you could go see a live performance, asking her so many times that it could have been considered begging. She always said no, you didn’t have the money, and eventually you understood and settled for getting glimpses of the movie whenever you could. Sonia seems to have figured out your feelings for it, because she spends half of her time looking over at you. 

The music moves you more than anything you could ever explain. The composer is, or was, a damn genius, you’re pretty sure, because by the time you’re listening to the finale you’re shaking so hard from trying to keep yourself composed. Sonia has long stopped looking at you and instead is heavily invested in the movie at this point; she’s even sat up from your shoulder to lean in a bit more to the screen. It fills you with a sort of swelled pride. When the picture of the red rose surrounded by monochrome graves fills the screen, you hear a noise from her – almost a squeak – and you exhale a sharp, heavy breath as the white names begin to roll. 

“Well,” she speaks after a while, and you hear a quiver in her voice that makes your heart twitch. “That was…touching, to say the least.” For a moment you worry its sarcasm, but she turns to you and smiles, and her cheeks are actually a bit wet from the looks of it. 

“Have you never viewed this divine masterpiece before now?” you question, and you’re actually surprised. You can’t imagine never having seen this movie before, especially since she owns it in the first place. She shakes her head and you sigh softly. “…Since the days of my youth, I had always desired to observe a performance in person, yet I have never been able to,” you murmur, glancing at the screen. 

Sonia hums quietly and rests her head on your shoulder again, her breath warm on your neck. “Perhaps we could see it together one day?” she suggests, and you nearly jolt upright, wordlessly staring at her in disbelief. She looks startled, but goes on anyways, “I don’t see why not, Gundam. It sounds like it would be interesting. Really,” she says, a bit softer this time, “you seemed so passionate for it that I would love to see it with you.” 

Her proposal leaves you speechless, but she really does seem genuine. The look on her face makes your throat tighten a bit, so you swallow tightly and look back at the TV. “A situation such as that would be…wonderful,” you admit, and you refuse to look at her. Out of the corner of your eye you see her smile and she nuzzles your shoulder a bit. The two of you watch the credits roll in silence as you revel in the possibility of a live show. 

After the credits are over, Sonia sighs wistfully and turns the cable back on. Empty bags of popcorn and an almost-gone two liter of soda lay in front of the light of the TV. Now that the movie is over and the conversation has passed, a tense silence rests in the air. It’s never been a problem before recently, and it worries you; the last thing you want is for Sonia to get bored of you or feel like there’s nothing to be said. The anxiety of it pushes and pushes on your stomach until you think you’ll burst, until finally, you have to say something. 

“Miss Sonia –” 

“Gundam – oh, my bad,” she grins sheepishly, “you speak first.” 

“I…I wanted to comment on your proposal,” you speak slowly, trying to remember where you’re going with this while you’re talking. “While the suggestion seems superb, I would want anything but to be a burden on you. It would be costly, as well,” you say, thinking out loud. “I appreciate it nonetheless.” 

“No, no, that wouldn’t be a problem,” Sonia replies, and she almost laughs, too. You try not to look too offended, but she amends it with, “Gundam, you aren’t a burden, don’t worry about that. Also, if I didn’t know that it would be expensive, I would not have suggested it in the first place.” You nod, a bit more relaxed than before, but she goes on. “Now, I was just…thinking.” She seems uneasy, and you scoot a bit closer to her, as if that would ease her nerves.  

“It’s just…well, I’m not too sure what we are, Gundam, that’s all,” she declares, putting it as bluntly as she can. It takes you back a bit, because that was the last thing that was on your mind. But you think you understand. The two of you are still friends, and definitely still close, but neither of you are too positive what happens beyond that. 

“Nor am I,” you agree, figuring you can let her explain herself a bit more before you both get some answers that you want. 

“That night after the theatre party seems so long ago, doesn’t it?” she sighs, almost regretfully, and now you’re the uneasy one. You keep silent this time. “I always figured that drinking a lot makes you forget, but I remember that night. Not everything, just bits and pieces, but still…I remember kissing you,” Sonia smiles, and she finally turns to you, and the look in her eyes gives you a bit of relief. “I liked it. And I still think about it sometimes, but…neither of us have really talked about it.” 

You’re quiet, still, and she’s looking at you like she’s waiting for you to respond, but for now, you don’t have anything to say. She exhales again, smile dissolving, and you know you’re not making whatever this conversation is any easier. “I don’t think that that night was a mistake, but if you _do_ , I’d at least like to know. It is only fair.” 

“Ah…I see. So this is your primary concern then?” When she nods, you really do feel relieved this time. “Mi – …Sonia, I have no regrets about my decision making, as well. I apologize profusely that you are apprehensive about this, but…I have been unsure of how to act next. If I were to speak honestly…” your face gets hot, and you slide down a bit into your scarf as it muffles your words, “…I, too, enjoyed that night. And I would like to attempt, well, inquire if you…if you would consider being my partner.” 

She freezes, and for a moment you’re really worried that you’ve said something to upset her. But a hot, red blush creeps onto her cheeks, too. “Do you mean…are you proposing to me...?” 

“N-No,” you stutter out quickly, seeing how she could so easily misinterpret your words, “no, no, not a wedding, but, ah, perhaps not _unlike_ one, yet a union of bonds, a…a partnership of sorts.” You stumble painfully through every word, and it takes you a while, but her face lights up when she understands the big picture.

“Like…if I were to be your girlfriend?” 

“That is a word for it, I believe, yes.” You sigh in relief, glad to get your point across. Sonia merely giggles and leans in, pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek. 

“Alright. That sounds lovely. But if you would be my boyfriend –” she has to stop to giggle again at the word “– then that means that we should go on outings together. As a couple.” 

“If that is what you want, it is what we shall do, princess.” 

“You always call me that,” she laughs again, but quickly quiets down when she remembers her parents sleeping down the hall. But she still smiles at you, soft and gentle and feminine, and it makes your heart flutter. Years ago you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall for her, but you think you knew that you might anyways. You once thought of her as your only weakness, but now you think that she could be one of your greatest strengths. 

Together, the two of you talk idly and easily about possible first dates that the two of you could go on while listening to the lull of late night television sitcoms. Both of you lean back against the side of Sonia’s bed, and when the conversation dies down, neither of you bother on saying anything else. Eventually she falls asleep on your shoulder, her calm and steady breath like an anchor. Carefully and slowly, you stand and pick her up (trying not to struggle too much or wake her up – you aren’t too used to holding anyone), and you set her back down in her own bed. She rolls over and snuggles down in her blankets. 

It’s inappropriate for you to even consider sleeping in the bed next to her, although you have to admit to yourself that you think about it several times. But you use your own restraint that you’ve built up for years and let her have the bed to herself. It takes you a while, but you fall asleep an hour later on the plush rug beside her bed with the white noise from the TV acting as your lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELL YEAH HELL YEAH BOY GIRL SLEEPOVERS ahh this was a wonderful chapter. honestly i love everything from last chapter to the end
> 
> oh yeah btw when i saw phantom on broadway (tragic btw. cried for weeks) it was like GUNDAM WOULD LOVE THIS and writing that part in was so embarrassing but so worth it. gundam would be like. a snob about it. once he saw the live show he'd look at the movie version and be like "eugh this is garbage" lmao


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for over 1k hits!! i really appreciate it. this fic is honestly the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written but i'm so in love with it lmao

You are Sonia Nevermind, seventeen years old, and you have been told that tonight is supposedly going to be the best night of your life. 

It’s the height of your years, they always told you. Tonight is the night where you supposedly fall in love and when you realize just how amazing being young is. Your parents fell in love on a night very similar to this one, you learned. Your mother and father were prom king and queen, and you still have memories of being a child and looking through their old prom photos. If there’s a time they’ve been grooming you for it’s definitely now, at the end of your Junior year, when everything is coming together like the teeth of a zipper. 

But if you were telling the truth, you don’t see the big deal. 

Sure, this whole thing seems really fun, and you get that. It’s a whole lot of hype, and you know that if you’re with your friends it will all be okay. And hey, you’re on prom court. It could turn out to be an exciting evening. But you’ve been to school dances before. They are, from your experience, more or less the same. 

Gundam insisted upon staying home tonight, and because he was so adamant, you eventually caved and promised that the two of you could do something else another time. An agreement was reached; Saturday night was the dance, and the two of you would do something together Sunday evening. He told you that he’d gotten a “full high school experience” during the theatre party last spring, and he would prefer to spend the majority of the rest of it in silence. 

He’s changed since that theatre party, you noticed, though he won’t admit it. He still doesn’t make a concentrated effort on being with others or talking to them, but you still see him around some of the guys sometimes, simply being a part of the group. He feels closer to you than usual somehow though, and that’s like a comfort. It’s as if the two of you have an unspoken connection, although that has most likely stemmed from your childhood together. 

Regardless of your status as a couple, you don’t push him into going to the prom with you. You tried once more after that first kiss to get him to go to another school outing with you: if you remember correctly, it was the fall dance. You’re tired of trying to nudge him into directions that clearly make him uncomfortable, which means that instead, not only do you do things you’re both comfortable with, but you take everything slow. You found out after that kiss that in matters of relationships (and _girls_ ) that he isn’t really that bold at all. You expected it, however, and have built up levels of comfort in physical contact. 

While Gundam stays home, however, you’re going out, and the two of you have established that. You still have your ticket, and as expensive as it was, there’s no way that you’re letting it go to waste. If tonight is really supposed to be the night you fall in love (which you find unlikely, considering your boyfriend will not be next to you), you’d at least like to take part in it. However, you’ve been left without a date, which is something you would have liked, but can live without. 

The day starts with breakfast out with your mother. She gushes over you for about an hour and a half while you push your pancakes around the plate, and she tells you every single detail about her Junior prom (for the fifth time this week). After that, she drives you to the salon and you get your hair done in a curled up-do, all of your long blonde hair twisted into a bun on top of your head and a braided crowd adorning the top. Two long ringlets fall down on both sides and frame your face. Following that you get a manicure (a quick one, of course, because you wouldn’t want tacky nails). You get home soon after that, and by then it’s time for final touches.  

Your mother helps you into your dress because your nails are still drying, and then of course has to stand back and look at you for a while. Its floor length, and even when you slip your hose and heels on it still scrapes the ground just a bit. You’re too far in to be nervous at this point: dinner is about an hour away by now. Makeup takes you a good thirty minutes, with base, foundation, shading, eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick and gloss. The final, _final_ touch is a necklace wrapped snugly around your neck that dips down into your collarbone. You feel just about as ready as you can get. 

Pictures take up about the last fifteen minutes you have left of free time. You throw a few things into your purse: your phone, your wallet, your ticket, a tube of lipstick and gloss just to be safe. Your mother and father are a bit disappointed that you have to take pictures alone, but you make sure to give them some good shots anyways. Your father kisses your forehead and your mother gives you a crushing hug as you descend out onto the porch and your ride rolls up. 

It’s Nidai, driving a minivan, and you’re pretty sure it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Akane sits in the passenger’s seat, wearing a strapless blue gown to match Nidai’s deep blue vest and tie. You vaguely remember her telling you over lunch that the two of them would be going together. Her hair looks relatively the same but she’s wearing stunning black eyeliner that emphasizes the sharp shape of her eyes. She rolls the window down and looks you up and down, only saying, “ _Damn_.” You laugh and slide the door open, scooting in to the second row of seats. 

Chiaki sits next to you, sitting gracefully with her legs crossed. She stares out the window as the van rolls away, absently playing with her straightened hair. “Chiaki,” you smile, getting her attention, “your dress turned out beautiful. How long did it take?” 

She reaches under one of the ruffles and fidgets around a moment, and then something clicks and all of the lines on her black dress light up a soft pink. She seems to enjoy the attention. “The dress itself didn’t take too long, but the wires for the lights took me about a month.” Chiaki gives you a gentle smile. “It’s based off of the movie Tron. I thought even after this is over I could use it for other things, too.” 

A laugh resonates from the backseat, and you turn to notice three guys crammed together in the tight space of the back. Souda sits on the left (right behind you) in a casual white button down and slacks, still wearing his beanie. His hair is freshly washed and dyed, and he absolutely reeks of cheap cologne. Komaeda sits behind Chiaki, legs crossed and looking particularly uncomfortable. He’s wearing a grey vest and tie with a white dress shirt and black dress pants and shoes, and he definitely looks like he’s making a conscious effort to ignore Souda. His cheek leans into his hand as he stares out the window. His face is a bit red, however, because in between Souda and Komaeda sits Hajime as their mediator, in a suit and green tie. He tries to humor whatever joke Souda just made but ultimately falls flat, leaving Souda’s attention to fly to you. 

“Whoa…Sonia, you look gorgeous…w-wonderful!” His voice is airy and full of admiration, so you smile politely. You know he wouldn’t be saying that if Gundam were here, but you somewhat appreciate the effort anyway. 

“Yeah, you must have taken for- _ever_ on that hair,” Akane chimes in from the front seat, and you spot her put on a pair of sunglasses in the side view mirror. “Seriously, girl, could you have _chosen_ a better dress for those boobs?” She clicks her tongue and the two of you laugh. You’re suddenly glad that Souda is behind you rather than next to you. 

“My hair was done at a salon this morning, and I’ve had this dress on reserve for months. It looks like it was worth it,” you hum softly. 

“Where’s your boy, though? I would have thought that with the status between the two of you you’d be inseparable.”  

Souda pipes up again from the back, voice aloof and disgusted. “Ugh, you mean _Tanaka_? He’s probably afraid that if he touches another girl he’ll kill her or somethin’. That’s what I’ve heard, at least. Probably cooped up at home all alone in his hamster’s cage –” 

Hajime hits him on the leg to shut him up, but you turn around and give him a cold, almost calculated smile. “Gundam, my _boyfriend_ ,” you place a careful, practiced emphasis on the word, “did not feel comfortable attending tonight’s festivities. So I agreed to go alone.I see no problem.” Hajime rolls his eyes and mumbles a sorry on Souda’s behalf. You turn back around.

With your words left in the air, Nidai decides for all of you that it’s enough conversation. He turns up the radio and the sound of hard rock music fills the car, and all of the windows come down at once. He and Akane yell all of the words of the current song while the rest of you sit in a somewhat awkward silence. The seven of you rattle down the street in Nidai’s minivan to dinner. 

* * *

You are Gundam Tanaka, seventeen years old, and have decided to stay home from what everyone says is the best night of your life. 

School functions are highly overrated, in your opinion. And of course, your opinion is extremely valuable to all those who would choose to listen. You went to one school dance in sixth grade, and that merely ended in disaster for everyone involved. After that, you didn’t go out until that theatre party at the end of sophomore year. Of course, that ended up not so bad after all.

By now, it’s about nine o’clock, and you assume the prom is well on its way. What you wouldn’t _give_ to show up at the entrance halls where everyone is and stand at the front, your coat billowing and your four trusted companions squeaking excitedly while your booming laughter shakes the room. But Sonia is there, and you’ve agreed to let her have her night. She told you that the wretched and vile Kazuichi Souda was in her group, and that she would most likely have many advances made on her on this night. She promised to politely shut him down as usual. It makes your gut twist in horror, but you trust her. 

There isn’t too much to do except glance at your clock repeatedly. She promised that she would text you when she was on the way home, and that’s that. You suddenly feel a bit clingy, and that in itself makes you nervous, so you distract yourself with menial tasks. 

First, you pick up your room (an old habit from when your father was still around), throwing your clothes into a bin for later instead of shoving them into the closet. You make your bed once, twice, stopping at three times before you get out of control. The clock reads nine thirty. You then take the liberty of organizing your bookshelf again; first alphabetical by author, then instead by title, then once by importance, but you finally settle back on in order by author. The clock only reads ten. Somewhere in the house the door slams. You hear your mother’s voice call out to tell you that she’s home from work. Briefly, you peek your head out of the doorway and peer down the stairway to tell her that you’re home, too. Finding nothing more of interest in your room, you creep down the stairs. 

She makes herself dinner while you sit at the table with her. She asks about your day, but you don’t have much to report besides your work. When she sits down across from you, her microwave meal steaming, she looks at you with exhaustion in her eyes. Your mother looks so different from when you were only five and newly moving into this house. There are more creases in her face, yet she seems a bit more relaxed. Of course, it wasn’t always like that: she was afraid for a long while after your father left. The two of you have, in a way, grown together, and that’s kind of odd.

“I’d forgotten that your high school prom was tonight,” she states, though it sounds more like a question. She waits patiently for your eyes to meet hers as she chews her food slowly. You cross your arms stubbornly. “Do you have any friends that are going? I’m sure you have at least one.” You look down, as if caught in the act, and she smiles almost knowingly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“If that is the label that you must assign to them, then yes, I suppose that I do have several of those that are attending tonight’s festivities,” you hum thoughtfully, resting your arms on the table. This wasn’t really what you wanted to think about, and you’d like to return to your room – perhaps reorganize your books again – but you never liked letting your mother eat alone. Without your permission, your mind wanders to Sonia. 

“…Anyone in particular?” she tries, raising her eyebrows. A curt “no” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, and her smile grows wider. “Ah, I see. Sonia is there tonight, is she not? I thought the two of you were together.” 

“We are,” you blurt again, and suddenly conversation becomes a whole world harder. Your mother continues to stare at you while you stutter out, “The two of us have become such a fearsome duo that even the deadliest, sickliest, and most despicable monsters plaguing this world would quake in terror at our very presence.” 

“Hmm,” she hums, finishing her meal and going to wash the dishes. You, based on habit, stand to help her. “I know you don’t go out too much, Gundam. She must adore you.” You flush red, but that seems to be the end of that conversation. Instead, you inquire about her work over the rush of steaming water from the faucet. Once the dishes are done, she tells you she’s going to bed because she’s got another shift in the morning. She has to lean up onto her toes to kiss your forehead, and with a comment about how tall you are, she leaves you alone in the kitchen. 

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since you came downstairs. She got home around ten, but you don’t know how much time you spent with her. Tentatively, you allow yourself a peek at the clock, only to realize that you still have a half an hour before the prom is over. You slump back upstairs and decide it’s time to take care of the Four Dark Gods of Destruction. You start by cleaning their cage, and then you let them curl up on your chest while you brush their fur. 

Sun-D takes the most time out of them (her vessel is female, after all; she requires extra special care), and by the time you have moved on to getting the knots out of Jum-P’s fur, your phone vibrates. It startles you just enough to jostle the four Gods just a bit, waking the other three who were complacently napping after their grooming. When you look at the text, it’s from Sonia. Your heart lights up, and you glance at the clock – five after eleven – just before texting her back. 

* * *

 _we’re on our way back now._ read the text that you sent Gundam, because knowing him, he was most likely antsy throughout the entire night. You and Chiaki sit in the front seat with her at the wheel, even though this is Nidai’s car. He and Akane are pressed into the very backseat, looking like something was about to happen between them but they fell asleep before either of them could get very far. 

Your phone buzzes and the screen lights up almost immediately. The car is alight with the fluorescence of your phone, and in the middle seat, Souda croaks out a groan. His text read, _How was this dance. Certainly it was_ _sub-par_

 _it was pretty fun. souda threw up :P_  

_I see. That is quite foul of the pink-haired one._

_yeah, it was kind of embarrassing for him i guess. hajime won prom king. it was a weird night :S_

_Yes. I will see you tomorrow then?_

The night has had you on your feet the entire time, and now that it’s over, you can finally relax and think it through. Yes, originally you and Gundam had plans to meet in the evening after his shift at the pet store was over. But that seems like an awfully long time, and you’re feeling especially attractive tonight, and you really shouldn’t let that go to waste. _actually, i thought we could meet up just for a bit in the cul-de-sac. if that’s okay? :D_

He texts back almost quicker than you thought he would. _Of course, my lady._

Behind you, Souda stumbles out of the car and heads into his home, unable to keep steady the whole way. You reread your conversation with Gundam multiple times and let a smile stretch across your face. Chiaki catches it, her face illuminated by the bright screen. “Did something happen?” she murmurs, not taking her eyes off of the road. 

“Nothing, really,” you sing to yourself. On the inside you’re practically glowing. Maybe tonight will be the fairy tale you always dreamed it would be. You think you’ve gathered up the confidence to really do it this time. “It seems I’ve got a date.” 

* * *

 

You’re nervous. This isn’t your first date with Sonia (and it really isn’t a date  _at all_ ), but somehow the context feels different. It will be late when she gets back, and no doubt her parents may be wondering about her. You’ll have to sneak out of your house, but you know, you’ve done that before too, no sweat. The two of you will be in the middle of the cul-de-sac, right where everyone could look out their windows and see you. She also may be intoxicated like she was on that night a year ago. 

You wait in the front window, glancing out of it repeatedly twice a minute like an anxious puppy. You told your mother that you’d go to bed after you finished picking up your room, but you didn’t expect Sonia to want to meet you. Finally, you see headlights flash down the street, and a car parks across from Sonia’s house, in front of Hinata’s. Three figures stumble out of the car and head towards Hinata’s, one heads towards Nanami’s, and the last figure begins to walk to the center of the cul-de-sac, staring your house in the face. 

Before you head outside, you turn around and take a look up the stairs. You can’t see any light in the hall, so it’s safe to assume your mother has gone to bed. You take a deep breath, smoothing your hair back and looking down on yourself. You’re still wearing that long purple scarf she knitted for you so long ago, except now you’ve finally grown into it. 

She stands in the middle of the cul-de-sac, though you can’t see her very well from your front step. You click the door shut carefully and clear your throat as you approach her, looking around cautiously for any would-be onlookers. Thankfully, you don’t spot any, so it’s safe to go to her. 

“Gundam,” she speaks, voice echoing through the empty street and finding its way to you. She smiles in the dim light and moves closer. When she walks under the yellow light of the street lamp, you get a full view of how she looks, and the very sight of it knocks the breath out of your lungs. 

Sonia stops right at the end of your driveway, waiting for you, still wearing her dress. It barely skims the pavement and you can just see the heels she’s wearing to make herself taller. The dress itself is almost pure black, with the skirt bunching around the left side of her waist and flowing downwards from there in ruffles. She’s got a jeweled belt on her hip which sparkles under the lights, and every fiber of the dress looks like it’s got a star embedded into it. Her hair is pinned up and curled, and right in front of her braid gently rests a feminine crown. You finally manage to meet her eyes, which are gazing at you, wide and open, waiting for a response.   

But you can’t say anything. You’re so caught off guard, because she’s absolutely _breathtaking_. It takes a concentrated effort to walk towards her, and when you do, her smile grows sheepish. “I forgot to mention. Hajime won prom king, but I won prom queen.” Her hands find yours, but you pull away, not wanting her to realize how sweaty they are. 

“Um,” you start, and you realize that that probably wasn’t a very good beginning, “that’s…sufficient. Sufficient of someone of your…of your grace, and intelligence, and…” you trail off, realizing that you’re speaking in circles. Her smile turns kinder, and she grabs you by your wrists this time and pulls you into the middle of the cul-de-sac. When you walk, the crown on her head shines, twinkling like stars. Everything about her embodies the night: from her dress to her shoes to her hair to her eyes. You at last find the right words. “You resemble a princess.” 

This seems to take Sonia off guard. But she giggles a bit and pulls you closer so she’s in your arms. You adjust so that you’re comfortable holding her. “That was your old nickname for me. That’s adorable.” She giggles again, wiping some hair behind her ear, then saying, “Thank you. But if I’m the princess, that makes you the prince.” 

“Not a prince,” you correct gently, “but a Dark Overlord. Which names you not a princess, but a Queen.” You take a step back so that you’re a distance apart, then take one of her hands into yours, and you kneel. You lock eyes, and you’re fairly certain that this is the most intimate thing you’ve ever done, and though your face is on fire, there’s no turning back. “Would you be so honored as to accept that title as your own, Miss Sonia Nevermind?” 

“Of course,” she murmurs, voice smooth and even, and she tugs your arm so that you stand back up, and she kisses you. It’s tense, at first, but as you go on it eases up. She’s changed you, you realize; in the twelve years you’ve known her she’s opened you up and now she’s able to melt your insides by just looking at you. When she breaks the kiss, it’s quiet, and all you can hear is her breath. 

“…M-My apologies for being unable to attend this night by your side,” you stutter out, cursing yourself for the near break in your voice. She moves away some to give you some space, and you exhale with a bit of relief. But she’s still looking at you. “If I had been present, than surely all would have trembled in fear upon the very visage of my heavenly form. I would have had all the demons in the underworld possess each and every body and thrash about inside until they all collapsed…” 

“That’s alright,” Sonia stops you there before you can babble on much more. Her hands slip into yours again. “Even if you didn’t go, I would still have your company.” She pauses once more, looking a bit bashful, before grinning to you and saying, “May I have a dance, my future Dark Overlord?” 

Dammit. You still can’t dance. You never could dance. But you still can’t say no, not when she’s here with you. “Of course, my future Lady of Eternal Darkness.” Her eyes light up at the name, and the two of you hold hands and ease into a steady sway. 

You aren’t sure how long the two of you are dancing. It seems like forever, but it could have been a mere twenty minutes. At one point, Sonia shifts forward and wraps her arms around your neck and rests her forehead on your collarbone, right in the fabric of your scarf. It isn’t long after that that she leans up and presses her lips right to your ear, and she whispers, “I’m in love with you.” You never even dreamed that saying the words back to her would feel so natural.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> having gone to prom twice i can absolutely say its about getting ready and NOT about actually being there. the actual thing is pretty lackluster. its all about getting the dress and going out to dinner. after that the night is pretty much over (i apologize for the my-immortal-esque detailing of clothing and getting ready in this chapter but. literally thats how getting ready works. yeah)
> 
> what a cliche chapter?? but i loved it a lot. i literally couldnt think of anyone else in their class who could be prom king other than hinata and its so funny? bc hinata just gets up there and is like "how did i end up here. i am so ordinary" but everyone loves the kid anyways
> 
> (by the way, bc i'm an asshole, here's what i had in mind for sonia's dress: http://www.promspiration.com/black-prom-dress-22/ 
> 
> and here's nanami's dress: http://technabob.com/blog/2013/02/12/tron-party-dress-is-off-the-grid/ )


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so! kind of a shorter chapter, and this one isn't really sondam, but i did feel that it was essential to gundam's character development that this chapter be written. only two more to go!

You are Gundam Tanaka, eighteen years old on this very day, and you finally feel like an adult. You feel tall, strong, and ready to take the world by storm. You’re at the peak of your Senior year when your future is so close within your grasp that you can practically taste it. You’ve got great things for the world and everyone knows it, and you’d like to hurry on up so you can leave your mark on it. 

At least that’s how you’re supposed to feel, according to every single high school movie you’ve ever watched and mandatory inspirational lecture you’ve ever attended. Being eighteen doesn’t feel much different from being seventeen. The only differences you fully recognize are being allowed to legally have sex (which you’re pretty sure you don’t want yet anyways) and being allowed to vote for some nameless politicians who will, either way you go, swindle you out of your money. Being an adult sounded fun when your father was around, because you always pictured yourself delivering a swift blow to his jaw and then making an escape with your mother by your side, but now you feel as if you’re one among many adults standing around, confused. 

In a couple of months you’ll be all on your own and shoved out into the real world with nothing but your cheap high school education and a sheet of paper that proves how and where you received it. It doesn’t really sound too exciting. You’ve already sent in your papers to the few colleges that interested you, and all that’s left is to wait. You know you’re smart, but they don’t know that, and all you have to show them what you’ve got is those papers. You hope that’ll be enough.

Midterms are only about a week from now, and they’ll be the last standardized tests you ever take within the walls of that godforsaken hell hole. They all seem fairly straightforward, however, so it doesn’t take up much of your time to study. You wonder if you should burn all of your schoolwork when you’re finished with them. 

Being eighteen does let you hold yourself differently, however. It comes with a certain knowledge that somehow makes your posture just a bit straighter, makes you angle your head a little higher. This morning when you got ready for work you allowed yourself a few extra seconds here and there as you went through the usual routine. You stared yourself down in the mirror, wondering how you used to be so small that you couldn’t see over the countertop. Your left eye is still gray from that accident at work, but your right one is still naturally blue. The same color as your fathers. The same shape as your fathers. You push the thought out of your head as you slick your hair back and put your red contact in. 

Your mother took the car to work this morning, you notice as you glance out the front window. She must have left before you got up. On the kitchen table is a little note from her that apologizes for not saying good morning, wishes you happy birthday, and promises to do something with you later tonight. You understand. Both of you have busy days lately as she prepares to help send you off to college and you scramble up extra money while you still can. 

Work is almost entirely uneventful. Several of your coworkers congratulate you on adulthood and pat you on the back (much to your discomfort). Saturdays are usually fairly busy, with schoolchildren popping in now and then with their parents to look for a new puppy or kitten, or the typical owner on an outing to buy some new food or toys. You would never admit it, but seeing all of those people genuinely interested in caring for and loving an animal fills your gut with something wholesome and pure. You have always detested interacting with children, but you sometimes catch yourself watching the looks on their faces when they find the creature that shall be theirs. 

To your surprise your boss approaches you around five and grumbles something in your direction. When you lean in closer to listen, you hear something about him saying that you could leave early, just this once, and you _might_ have even heard your name in there, but that’s doubtful. You nod at him, not exactly friendly enough with him to just thank him, and hang up your apron. 

Winter is fast approaching, evident by the fact that you almost slip on a patch of ice in front of the shop. The cool city air hits your face and stings your ears just a bit, slithering into your nose and curling its way into your stomach. Being uptown has always left you with a sort of ambiguous feeling; the city itself is almost always bustling with life, yet it somehow strikes you as one of the loneliest places you know of. There are always so many people around that never pay attention to each other. Sometimes you feel a sort of kinship with the city: both of you are pulling off a masterful illusion while you remain in solidarity. But you aren’t really all that lonely anymore, you’ve come to realize. You think once you find a college you’d like to live here on your own, because you don’t think by then living with your mother would still be the right choice. 

The next bus comes to the stop around five thirty, so you’ve got a bit of time to kill. You also have a bit of extra money, considering that it’s your birthday, so you decide to head across the street to the local coffee shop. It’s all there really is to do around here that doesn’t involve window shopping, local business, or huge and in-the-way department stores and malls. 

You purchase a regular peppermint latte once inside – perfect for the time of year, you’ve heard – and take a seat by the window, sipping it by yourself and burning yourself more than once. You’re well aware of how much of a pretentious asshole you probably look like, but the coffee isn’t as bad as you expected and it’s an okay way to spend some time by yourself. You start to think about your midterms while you watch the crowds in the street, sometimes seeing people on the phone crash into each other. They all casually walk in and out of the coffee shop as you observe: walk in, order, sit down and drink or pay and leave. 

A pair of men  walk in with each other, both in large winter jackets, and they head up to the counter separately. They seem to be together, one of them with a briefcase and the other with a suitcase: both look like businessmen. The one with the briefcase orders politely and quietly – nothing really noticeable – yet the other one catches your attention. There’s a bulkiness about him that seems familiar, and you hear a bit of a deep voice as he orders, and the similarities are just hitting you left and right when he turns his head to look at the other man to say something, and you get a glimpse of his profile and you see his _eyes_ – 

“Oh God,” you sputter, and you hear a squeal when you instinctively scoot back in your chair. The breath is taken out of you like a swift kick to the gut, and you try to keep watch of him lest he see you. Those eyes, his eyes, _your_ eyes, why is he back, why now? The inkling of suspicion is only confirmed when the barista calls out his order for _Tanaka_. You feel your heart splutter pathetically and you know that you can’t leave, not now, not until you figure out why he’s here. 

It’s him. It really is. Your father is back, gone for eight years and suddenly to return. And he’s with someone, and he has a suitcase. Is there something your mother isn’t telling you? Have she and your father been talking again, somehow? No, she wouldn't do that to you, but the thought makes you nauseous. You try and take another sip of your coffee only to find that it’s gotten too cold for you. You can’t stand up to throw it away for utter terror that you’ll be noticed. You stay where you are, paralyzed by fear. 

He’s older now, aged but still strong. From where you sit you seem to be the same height as him now, yet you feel like an ant under his boot. His shoulders are still broad and wide, and his eyes are still as blue as yours. Looking in them is like looking in the mirror every morning. His hair around his temples have begun to gray a bit with age, yet one thing about him looks the same. He still looks angry, yet calm, as if all of his moves have been perfectly calculated and all he has to do is carry them out. 

Your father and the other man sit across from each other, still within your earshot but too far for you to hear the entire conversation. The other man does most of the talking while your father does most of the listening, drinking his coffee and watching him with intent, predatory eyes. He looks at the other man just the way he used to look at you when you made him angry. When the other man stops talking, you hear very distinct words in your father’s voice: “I'm going to find my wife and child.” The room begins to spin. 

While they continue speaking, you pretend to drink and look out the window more, though you try and focus on them as much as you can. Suddenly all conversation stops, and you only hear a word here and there from your father. When you glance back over, the man has a notepad and is sketching out details. _Descriptions_. You thought you felt sick before, but now the real dread has settled into your bones, chilling you to the core. But you stare too long, and your father catches your eyes, and he freezes in place, too. 

“Gundam,” you hear him say, surprisingly breathless. “You, you look so…” The other man turns around and looks at you, too, and you know that now you have no choice. You hastily grab your coffee cup and stand up to leave, walking swiftly enough so that your legs don’t give out under you. Protests come from behind you but you ignore them, pushing the door open and vaguely hearing the little bell jingle. As you start to walk through the crowds, wading through them and trying to get away, you hear the bell sound again behind you and more yelling. 

All you can hear is your breath in your ears as you break into a run, and his voice calls out for you. You’ve forgotten where the bus stop is, and you feel alone in the crowd, swallowed by it, but you keep running, because if you stop, he’ll catch you, put his giant hand on your shoulder and crush you in his grasp – 

You finally spot the bus stop and see a line of people shrinking as they head onto the bus. Without looking into the street you run across it, dodging an angry car as he follows you, his shouts growing in volume and what seems like pure rage. You’re the last person on the bus as you climb on with fragile legs, looking over frantically at the bus driver to close the door. It shuts with a creak and begins to pull away amidst the city traffic, and you hear another cry of, “Gundam!” along with a fist slamming the side of the bus heavily. You take a seat in the back of the bus away from everyone else, watching as his face fades out of view. 

Now that you’re alone, feeling returns to your body, starting with the realization that you’re shaking violently in your seat. You exhale loudly, releasing a breath that seems to have been lodged in the base of your throat. You aren’t even sure if you’re on the right bus, because none of the routes seem familiar, but you aren’t getting off for a long time. All you want to do is curl up and shrink into the plastic seating and fade away from the rest of the world. Slowly, you unwrap your fingers from the half full coffee cup you forgot you were holding. 

How pathetic. You haven’t been this afraid of anything in eighteen years, even after you and your mother have had eight full years to mull it over and move on and grow from it. Today is the day you’re legally an adult, yet never before have you felt more like a child. All these years and you always promised if you ever saw him again, you’d hit him, punch him, show him how you felt watching your mother suffer. All you did was run away like a startled bird. You aren’t one to cry, but you feel tears well up in your eyes and you huddle into the corner to try and drown out the melancholy drone of the bus. 

“…Tanaka?” you hear a voice, and you recognize it, but that name is the last name you’d like to hear right now. The voice is small, but you feel small, so you ignore it. “Tanaka,” it tries again, and you think you might actually throw up if you hear that name again.

“Cease that at once,” you croak, covering your eyes in case your emotions spill over without your permission. Your face gets wet and you wipe your eyes, feeling more like an abandoned child with every passing second. But you still feel someone’s eyes on you, so you swallow tightly and at least try to straighten yourself a bit more. “What is it, then?” you sigh as you turn to the voice, best to get it over with. 

Souda sits a couple seats down from you, somehow making his voice quiet yet easy to hear through the humdrum of the bus. He glances around, then scoots closer to you so that the only thing separating the two of you is a single blue plastic seat. His eyes are looking at you like you’ve never seen them before, and he actually seems…concerned. For you? No, that would be asking too much for someone like him. “Did something happen?” he questions timidly, and then, as he jumps to conclusions, “Is it Sonia?” 

“Of course not,” you growl, and somehow that makes it worse. Your stomach curdles, and you don’t to think about Sonia seeing you as you are. If she saw you as you are now, it would shatter the image you spent years building. But it wouldn't shatter the image for her: it would shatter the image for you. “It is nothing of your concern, pink one, for this is my battle alone and not yours.” Your words sour in your mouth as you speak, and when you refer to whatever this is as a battle you know that it isn’t over. Your eyes well up again and you stare at your feet to try and gain control of yourself again. “It was…a demon.” 

He scoffs at you, all hints of worry gone from his expression and his voice. “Pfft, is that it, huh? I try and show some actual feelings to you and all you give me is this magical bullshit? Alright,” he grumbles back, and that seems to be the closest to a moment the two of you will get. 

You can’t think of anything else to do but try and talk to get the event out of your system. “I have n…never witnessed you on this vehicle before this moment.” Your words still stick in your mouth, heavy and clunky, but you take a breath. “Is there…a reason?” 

“I come home from work on this bus,” he sighs, then looks back at you, seeing how you’re still fidgeting. “What about you? You’re never on this bus.” 

It takes a minute to formulate a reply, so while you do you stare at your hands. They clasp each other in a somewhat feeble attempt to stop shaking. “I…was doing the same. I had visited another location previous to this one when I encountered _him_ …” you can’t bring yourself to say who he was or what he was, but you still don’t think Souda understands. “The hell spawn that violated and pillaged everything I ever held in sanctity when I was young. The man who traumatized me, and…my mother…” you lean on your elbows again, running your hands through your hair as your throat closes back up. Souda has probably never seen you so open before, so exposed and raw. 

“Oh,” he says, less boisterous than before and calmer. “Are you…talkin’ about your dad?” Your silence seems to be answer enough, and while you expect for him to blow you off, he makes somewhat of an effort to continue. “That, that really blows, man, I mean…I get it. I had the same thing,” he states. The moments in between words are awkward, because you never really figured Souda to ever try and comfort you, in any case. 

“Was…was the man who helped give you life born from Satan’s very flames himself as well?” you respond, genuinely surprised, because in your life you never thought someone as arrogant as Souda would ever have any connection to you. 

“No,” he frowns and speaks slowly, but goes on, “but he’s a pretty shitty guy. He used to beat me whenever he got mad, and my mom was never around, so…” he shrugs, as if the experience is long past and just a vague memory. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m movin’ out the day they hand me that stupid diploma. He doesn’t touch me anymore, but he’s still a bitch to live with…” Souda leans back in his seat, staring at the ceiling with a faraway expression. 

For a few minutes nothing is said between the two of you. The bus screeches to a halt multiple times, caught up in the five o’clock traffic, and people get off in the impatience. When you finally find the words, you look over at him. “I hadn’t a clue,” is all you can say, and when he looks back at you there’s empathy in his eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s alright, I guess. No one ever does. Always figure I'm just some brat, but I worked for where I am now. I’m doin’ what I love,” he assures not you, but himself, leaning forward again and curling his hand into a confident fist. “I’ve got a great job at the garage down here and as long as I’ve got my hands around machines I can make a living anywhere. I don’t need a shitstain like my dad to weigh down my life and tell me what to do and where to go.” The weight of his words hang in the air for a minute before he looks back at you. “’Neither do you, y’know.” 

The tears on your cheeks have long dried by now, and you meet his eyes. For the first time Souda looks at you like you’re an actual person and not just a freak that is dating the girl he supposedly is in love with. You don’t know what changed or where along the line it did, but you, too, are looking at him differently. He no longer seems like some punk that insists upon being constantly in your way, but his own person with his own issues. Issues that could, possibly, end up being not so different from your own. 

“Ahh, just so you know,” he pulls you from your thoughts, “no one’s gotta know we had any talk like this, alright? Y’know. A man to man talk. Between men,” he grins, his sharp teeth no longer seeming threatening, but characteristic of him. You find it in you to humor him and grin back. 

“Agreed,” you nod, straightening yourself again and offering your hand to him. He accepts it and gives it a single, vigorous shake.

No other words are exchanged for the remainder of the bus ride. Souda gets off before you do, leaving you with a short goodbye, and you watch his back as he walks down the still crowded aisle. The situation with your father is still fresh in your mind, but somehow that led you to making your peace with a peer that has always detested you. You think about Souda's words as you get off the bus and walk back to your house. 

Before your mother gets home, you make several phone calls. She walks in with absolute terror in her eyes, having heard news of his return at work, and you calmly and carefully explain that she has no reason to worry. You called not only the police but family abuse services. They were looking for him right now, for the man called Tanaka in his late forties with the graying hair and the blue eyes. 

She hugs you, trembling, and kisses your forehead so many times she might have left marks. You hug her back, still feeling like a child in her embrace, but feeling stronger somehow. You never got the confrontation you dreamed of, but you protected those you cared about and defeated the first demon who greeted you in this cold and cruel world. It seems fitting enough for a day like today. As your mother hesitantly pulls out of your arms, wiping her eyes and smiling up at you, you finally feel like an adult. 

And with that realization, you start to cry, and you and your mother embrace again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said, i really did feel like this kind of thing was important. i wanted gundam to have one more sort of interaction with his father, and i also REALLY thought that gundam and souda getting a bit of closure and actually being nice to each other (which, in canon, would probably happen much quicker if souda wasnt so...forward) was super important. i mean for real, they cant be idiots with each other forever. it would be a waste of an opportunity for character development
> 
> (btw closed information i have no idea what being eighteen feels like. i have a general idea. but let me date this and say that i'll know in a couple months lmao)
> 
> by the way, this chapter was kind of...difficult to write because, as i mentioned, a lot of events from this fic were taken from my own life, except the ones like this. i had no experience with this kind of emotional trauma or any kind of parental abuse when i was young, so if there's any advice i could receive or any comments on how to possibly fix these parts, i'd appreciate it! i'm always looking to improve my perspective on these kinds of things


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first thing i did after i graduated was get mcdonalds

You are Sonia Nevermind, eighteen years old, and today is the day that you graduate high school. 

The pandemonium begins practically the moment you wake up. You can hear your parents rushing around the house, dishes clattering and phone calls being made. Your alarm clock blinks at you that the time is just a few minutes before nine; you have about three hours before the ceremony begins. You begin with a shower and after that a bowl of cereal while your hair dries. Your makeup probably takes the longest: forty-five minutes for makeup and a good fifteen alone for hair. Dressing is the quickest, because your gown is already ironed and laid out on your bed, and your dress to wear under hangs on a hook on your door. Since you’ve still got a good while to go, you decide to stay in lazier clothes until its crunch time. 

Around ten thirty, you get a call from Akane, and, like usual, she’s talking a mile a minute. Most of the one-sided conversation is talking about how excited she is to get out of that hellhole and never again will she have to hear the methodical and condescending clack of teacher’s shoes as they walk into the classroom. You fail to tell her that she can still look forward to that in college, but Akane is majoring in gymnastics and athletics, so she’ll probably experience less of it then than now. She talks your ear off for about five minutes before you hear a loud voice in the background – what sounds like Nidai – yell something, and she yells back at him. 

“Sonia,” she says back to you, ignoring Nidai in the background, “I know we all talked about this beforehand, but are you and Gundam still going to the party tonight? I know you said he hates parties, but it’ll be small, just like a handful of people –” she stops talking again, groaning instead, and you can hear Nidai grumbling. 

“That theatre party was supposed to be a handful of people, too,” you mutter to yourself, and then when she doesn’t respond, “We’ll be there. I’m pretty sure,” and she still doesn’t say anything. You hear more grumbling from them both. “…Have either of you started getting ready?” 

She laughs, and suddenly Nidai’s grumbling gets a bit louder. “Well, we just woke up. Kind of a long night and everything, if you know what I mean.” 

“Ohh,” you nod, and suddenly you wonder if you’re on speakerphone. You and Nidai have known each other for a while now, but the two of you were never _too_ close, so you’d hate for him to hear you say something that might offend him. Lowering your voice, you whisper, “For the first time?” 

“Mmm, yeah,” Akane hums back, “we just figured, ‘why not’, right? What do we have to lose?” It’s quiet for another minute, and you hear more incoherent mumblings coming from both Nidai and Akane that you can’t make out. After some waiting, Akane says quickly, “Well, I’ll see you in about…what, an hour? Yeah, an hour. There’s plenty of time to get ready,” and she hangs up the phone. 

Just as you’re about to text Gundam after she hangs up, you hear a call from your mother downstairs. When you peek your head out of the doorway, she tells you that your aunt and uncle are here, and have brought your annoying younger cousins (of course, she omits the annoying part, but you both know the truth). She also yells for you to finish up and go get dressed because she and your father want before and after graduation pictures. 

Quickly, you shimmy into your knee length shimmering white dress and slip some light hose on underneath. You gaze at your robe and your cap, both of which lay on your bed, inviting you to put them on. Both your robe and your cap are white, one of your schools colors. All of the girls get white, and all of the boys get brown. You’re forever grateful that white is the color that you get; you can’t imagine having to walk up on stage in that horrible muddy color. 

Your robe easily fits in your arms and around your shoulders, and you put on your Honors Chord and your Academic Medallion. You leave the robe open for now, letting your gown sparkle underneath. Your shoes are downstairs, so the only thing that’s left is your cap. You shove it onto your head and pin it into your hair just like you practiced at all of those stupid graduation rehearsals. You take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror, taking one last breath before descending the stairs and wading into a mob of family that you haven’t seen in years. 

* * *

You are Gundam Tanaka, eighteen years old, and today is the day you graduate high school.   

Today is finally the day when you can truly make your own decisions. Compared to this, your eighteenth birthday was nothing but a mere child’s game. Now you _are_ becoming an adult, and this piece of paper will be your ticket to the train that leads to the real world. From what you’ve been led to understand, in the real world, you can purchase whatever you want whenever you want, say whatever you want whenever you want, _do_ whatever you want whenever you want. The possibilities are flourishing and endless, and if this menial celebration is the only thing that stands in the way, you’re eager and ready. 

Although you aren’t free yet, you still feel liberated. You haven’t stepped foot inside that putrid building for at least a full week, being the first time you’ve ever been out of school for that long. You stayed up later than usual last night talking to Sonia while you brushed your hamsters’ fur and prepared them for today. With much persuasion, your mother has allowed you to bring them today. They will sit upon your shoulders while you walk to the stage of your future. You will walk up the steps a boy and walk down them a man. 

(Alright, so the school staff doesn’t know about your decision to bring along the Four Dark Gods. But what are they going to do, expel you?) 

When you wake up, you aren’t really hungry, as the anticipation of the day has seemed to have swallowed your appetite whole. But when you stumble down the stairs, your mother quickly greets you and ushers you to the kitchen table. It’s polished and shining, and for a moment you’re worried she’s cooked breakfast – the last thing you want is a stomachache today – but she brings a brown paper bag to the table and tells you to look inside while she gets the two of you some drinks. 

She’s bought the two of you breakfast pastries and sweets that are probably not too good for you, either, but it’s still a good meal. When you look at her questioningly, she smiles at you and says, “I figured it would be nice. You deserve it,” and she hands you a glass of milk. 

The meal itself is mostly spent in silence, both of you enjoying your respective foods and treats. You wonder if she’s doing this because she knows that things will be different after today. You’ll be going to college in the fall and you won’t be living at home any longer. For the very least, you’re grateful that you’ve been able to stay in one place for so long. You distinctly remember moving here and being reluctant to unpack your personal items in your room, because you were so positive that you would be right back out the door. 

Those memories trigger more questions that rise up in your mind. You wonder if things would have gone differently had your father stuck around, if he would sit next to your mother while you walked onto the stage. Several months have passed since the incident where the two of you collided in the city, and since then you have received numerous calls from both the police and family abuse services. At first they were simple messages, updates more or less: _we’re hot on his trail, we’ve got the location of his hotel, we’ve identified a license plate_ , until finally, _we’ve apprehended the man we believe is your assailant._ They described him on the phone to you and asked if you wanted to see him to make sure, but you refused to come down to the station. You and your mother have a restraining order on him. But you wonder how far that will take you if he manages to find either of you again. For a while you would lay awake at night thinking about what he could have possibly wanted so bad to come back to find you. 

After a while of thinking these thoughts, you’ve stopped chewing, and eventually the food sticks in your throat like glue. You force the remainder of the bite down and swallow the last bit of your milk. Your mother, too, seems lost in thought, and it crosses your mind that the two of you could be thinking about the same thing. For a fleeting second you think she’ll comment on it, but she doesn’t; she just lets it hang in the air, an unspoken concern. You smile at her, just for a moment, because you appreciate it; the last thing you really want is something like that on your mind all day. 

You help her with the dishes and conversation picks up again, here and there, mostly small talk. You were never too good at that, but she seems to understand, choosing to fill any potential silence with humming. She kisses your forehead when you both finish and tells you to go get dressed. 

Your brown graduation gown – the appalling color that it is – rests on a hook on your door. You’ve been displaying it there to yourself for a good month now, ever since you picked it up. That stupid cap is with it, too, and the remainder of your outfit is on your bed. You’ve agreed to wear a purple dress shirt and a black tie for the purpose of pictures, even though you’ve repeatedly acknowledged your hatred for ties and the way they feel around your neck. It feels like a noose, much unlike your scarf. 

Speaking of your scarf, did you plan on wearing it today? It stares at you longingly from your bedpost, and somehow you feel like not wearing it today would be betraying every precious moment you’ve had with it. Plus, as an added bonus, it would make it easier to conceal the Four Dark Gods. The decision has practically made itself. With renewed vigor and drive, you head into your bathroom to truly begin getting ready. 

The usual routine doesn’t take as much time today: hair, teeth, contact. Something about the easiness of it all has smoothed you into something so casual that you couldn’t be bothered to hurry if anyone tried to make you. The excitement lays jittering in your nerves, like energy that has yet to be burned out. Dressing is quick and simple, though you have to do a google search on how to tie a tie, seeing as how you were never taught and your mother probably doesn’t know either. The gown slides on your shoulders and you pin your cap to your head, letting the final touch be your beloved purple scarf, adorned with the Four Dark Gods. 

When you walk downstairs again, you sit at the base of the steps and put your shoes on. You expected your mother to heavily protest about your scarf – and perhaps try and raise another argument about your hamsters – but she lets it go easily, telling you that this is your day and that you should be allowed to enjoy it any way that you want to. You thank her humbly and she tells you that you can take the car to drive down to the ceremony, insisting that she takes the bus. You’re the reluctant one at first, but she convinces you, and you pull out of the driveway feeling confident as she waves in the window. 

As soon as you’re out of the cul-de-sac, you roll down all four of your windows and turn your radio up almost as loud as it goes. It’s kind of weird and uncomfortable, with the heavy bass rocking the wheels of your already shitty car, and you’re pretty sure there’s some kind of noise law that you could be breaking, but something about the whole ordeal feels so right and so free that you drive like that all the way into the city. 

* * *

By the time you’ve successfully reached the fairgrounds where the ceremony is being held, there’s about a half an hour left before it actually starts. Your parents (and the rest of your family) _very_ reluctantly agreed to let you drive down by yourself, and when you’re on the highway you spot several others in white or brown graduation gowns heading the same way as you. The sight gives you a kind of odd but special unity with your classmates that you’ve never really felt before. You ride together, you die together, as they say. 

Parking is a pain, because not only are there students parking, but friends of students and families of all kinds, ranging from the typical minivans to a couple of RVs. When you finally manage to find a spot you can see all of the dots of white and brown all heading towards the ceremony building that’s been rented for the day. You quickly find out that not only is it hot outside, but equally hot and just a big muggier inside. The air conditioning seems to be off, as you and everyone else finds to your discomfort. 

You’re grateful when you manage to find Chiaki amongst the crowd, looking indifferent but elegant in her white gown. The two of you will be sitting next to each other throughout the ceremony. As you approach her, she smiles at you gently, for once looking more awake than ever. You’re about to ask her if there’s any reason why she looks so refreshed, but she reaches into her sleeve and pulls out a tiny bottle that fits between her fingers. Leaning in closer to look, you read the bottle as _Five Hour_ _Energy_. “Is that really appropriate for today?” you question, raising your eyebrows in amusement. 

“Yeeeah,” she drawls, her eyes darting between you and the small can in her fingers. “I actually do kind of need it now. See, my mom told me to get some sleep last night because my older brother is coming home from college and she wants nice pictures.” 

“Then why do you need them if you got sleep?” you grin. 

“Because I didn’t…I pulled an all-nighter playing Majora’s Mask. I _just_ bought it on Wednesday…I can’t believe I’ve never played it before,” she explains, and her eyes light up as she begins describing the game to you. Chiaki seems to be talking at a semi-normal speed, which is much faster than how she usually talks in the first place. The energy drink must be doing more to her than she’s letting off. But you suspect that a part of it is nerves, too, because every time someone in a suit nears the stage she slows down a bit and gets a bit quieter. 

After a little while, when Chiaki is beginning to run out of things to describe to you, Koizumi heads up to the two of you. The bottle red of her hair is in sharp contrast with her white cap and gown, and she looks rather reluctant to be approaching you. “Hey, guys,” she says in a tone suggesting discomfort, “just wanted to let you guys know that a couple of us are doing some pictures afterwards, if you’re interested. I wasn’t so sure about it, knowing the group, but Kuzuryuu suggested it.” 

You and Chiaki exchange glances as Koizumi walks away silently in her flats. “That’s interesting,” is all you say, because you know that the two of you are thinking the same thing. Kuzuryuu has never been one to suggest any sort of activity. He even only participated in things begrudgingly, as if he were a cranky child at a parent’s business party. Just as Chiaki is about to comment on it, too, you hear Kuzuryuu’s voice and spot him walking alongside Pekoyama to their spots in the crowd, both of them noticeably nonchalant. Kuzuryuu almost seems to be laughing. Maybe graduating isn’t just affecting you, but everyone. 

* * *

Somehow you’ve been roped into standing in a group with guys you’ve never really had full conversations with before. You’re in a small circle, and they all chat idly back and forth. Hinata is to your left, and every now and then he attempts to bring you into the discussion, but you never really have much to say. Though his tries are feeble, they are still tries nonetheless, so you join him in talking back and forth with Komaeda and Souda. 

Conversation goes on for a while about simple things that you aren’t really sure how to answer. The main topic seems to be what everyone spent their week of freedom doing once senior exams were over. Souda says he spent even more of his time in the garage downtown than usual. Hinata says he went job hunting, though unsuccessfully, because apparently no one is hiring right now. Komaeda says he has done literally nothing for seven days. As exciting as the topic is, it doesn’t last long before Nidai butts his way into the small circle, fumbling with his cap and gown and attempting to straighten his tie underneath. 

“Nidai,” Hinata looks him up and down with his eyebrows raised. “You look…rushed.” 

“Just got here,” the taller one laughs, more like an abrupt loud bark than an actual laugh. To your right, you see Souda jump. “Traffic is shit at this hour and I got up at ten! Kind of a long night.” He seems far too enthusiastic, although Nidai has always been far too enthusiastic. But something this morning has given him a little extra pep in his step. 

“Today is graduation, after all…it’s easy to be nervous,” Komaeda comments, and then a grin slowly spreads across his face. “Perhaps it was a long night for _another_ reason, though?” He laughs breathily, looking proud of himself. Hinata reaches over and punches him in the shoulder. 

But Nidai laughs along with him, boisterous and powerful. “Ahh, well, there _was_ something –” 

“ _Hey,_ Nidai!” you hear from across huge room, and all of you turn to see who it is. 

Of course, it’s Akane, bounding over here as if she had been listening to every word of the conversation. Nidai seems to tense a bit, and you all get the idea that Akane is the reason that he was late. Which, when you think about it, makes sense, because Akane was the reason he was late to class at least three times a week, if you recall. She grins as she stops right next to Nidai, her cap askew. “Hope you guys weren’t talking about me!” she jokes, and pats Nidai on the back, seemingly a bit harder than necessary. 

Everyone is uncomfortably quiet for a moment, but she laughs it off anyways and turns her attention to Nidai. “My dad and I are going out to lunch after it’s over, so I’ll text you when we get back, okay?” He nods, and she leans up and pecks a kiss on his lips. Akane turns her attention back to all of you and grins again. “I’ll see you guys tonight! All of you should be going to the party.” With that, she bounces back away, probably in the direction of Nanami and Sonia. 

 _Oh._ Sonia. You haven’t seen her for a couple of days, and even when you had intended to call her this morning, your time got the best of you. You should probably go and find her, but Nidai’s rowdy laughter pulls you out of your train of thought. He seems to be laughing about Akane; Hanamura is prodding him about it, maybe trying to slip in a subtle insult, but Nidai is either blissfully unaware or chooses to purposely ignore the shorter man, because he doesn’t make any comments about it. When you turn your attention back to Hinata and Souda, the two are talking about the party. 

“Yeah, I’ll probably go for a bit. In the spirit of things. I’m not great with that kind of thing,” Hinata shrugs passively. “I know our class is kind of average in size, but the people invited will only be, like…our usual group, right? About sixteen people.” 

“C’mon, Hinata, you’re literally the life of the party!” Souda interjects, sounding more like a whine than a protest. You cross your arms and hum in thought. _The songful one seems more willing to accept the title as “life of the party”, I would think._ “It’s somethin’ about you, y’know?” 

“Not really,” Hinata mumbles, and Souda struggles to keep the topic alive. 

“Well, I don’t know! Whether or not you’re the life of the party people love to see you there. You talk to almost everyone, and people just…whatever it is, people just like to be around you. You were prom king last year for God’s sake!” Souda goes on and on, listing the reasons why Hinata should come to what he describes as “party of the year”, even though if everyone invited goes (which would be a miracle in itself), there would only be sixteen people there. 

You stop listening to Souda after his first few complaints, instead letting your mind wander again. It wanders back to Sonia eventually, and you remember you earlier goal of finding her before the ceremony started. You raise a hand to get their attention, and though it takes a minute, Souda looks at you with a bit of irritation in his eyes. “If I may interject, my comrades, who will be attending the festivity this evening?” 

“Everyone should be, I think. Haven’t heard anyone say that they won’t,” Souda answers, and begins to think for a moment. “Togami, Ibuki, Saionji, Koizumi…hell, I even heard that Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama are goin’,” he nods. Then, as if to prove a point that has already been made, he turns and looks at Komaeda. “You…You’re goin’ too, aren’t you, Komaeda?” 

Komaeda glances at Hinata for just a moment too long before answering. The latter doesn't notice. “I should be, probably.” 

“See, Hinata?! Even Komaeda is going. _That_ alone should be incentive enough,” Souda jerks a finger in Hinata’s direction, probably having forgotten that it was you who asked the question in the first place. Hinata narrows his eyes a bit, and when you look at him carefully, the tips of his ears are dusted red. As much as you’d like to stay and listen to the argument continue, you have more important matters to take care of. 

Silently, you slip away from the circle of boys and go to find Sonia. The crowd is massive; not only are there masses of brown and white everywhere, but there are parents and friends and siblings sneaking behind the curtain to find their someone. You wish you could just go and sit down in your seat already, but no, you have to walk in _professionally_ like good little children who have been educated for more than twelve years to sit down and shut your mouths when told to. It still makes you scoff. You have skipped almost every graduation rehearsal that they’ve had, except for the last one, when Sonia and Nanami both chided you for missing the others. 

It turns out you have absolutely no idea where to find her. You know where you’re supposed to wait in line, and you know where she’s supposed to be in line, but none of that helps now that you’re face to face with a blob of unorganized students. For some reason, right now, she seems so important to you that finding her is of the utmost priority. You associate it with the fact that you probably wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for her sneaking into your house eight years ago. She’s encouraged you to do your best whenever it’s possible, and you think seeing her will motivate you even more to take the final steps and walk up onto the stage. You know it’s probably bullshit, but it works. 

You’re beginning to get anxious when you can’t spot her. Your heart jumps every time you spot a sliver of blonde hair, but you’re always disappointed. The only option left seems to be to wade through the crowd yourself, but that option utterly _repulses_ you. Not only do you not know more than half of these people by name, but the idea of so many hand and arms and shoulders brushing against you makes you physically shudder. 

Just as you’re about to give up, you see a flash of pink hair, too dull to be Souda. It gets closer, and relief flows through your body as you see her face. Nanami. Sonia told you that she and Nanami would be sitting next to each other, so she must be close by. Nanami heads through the crowd, stopping around the edge to look back, and finally you see her. Sonia emerges from the swarm of people, brushing off her gown, and she looks up only to see you, standing by yourself and probably looking like a dumbstruck idiot (because really, that’s how you feel). 

Sonia always goes all out for things like this in terms of dressing up. Whether it’s for dances or football games (which you literally _always_ refused to go to), she knows exactly how to look exactly how she wants. But she always looks like there is supposed to be a crown sitting upon her head. Today is one of those days. Sonia looks like she was pulled from every high school movie you’re ever been forced to watch: gorgeous and noble. She looks elegant, with her graduation gown open only to show a shining white dress with sequins and beads at the hem. Even from this far away, you can see white eye shadow on her lids and under her lashes and at the corner of her eyes that crinkle slightly when she smiles. She’s wearing a pale lipstick that brings out just how white her teeth are, and you’re always blown away by her, too blown away do anything, and you take a step towards her – 

A voice comes on via a microphone, announcing for all graduates to head to their spots in line and for all family and friends to take their seats. Sonia’s smile falls, you notice, but she sighs slightly and shrugs. You frown deeply, and Cham-P squeaks excitedly in your scarf, racing onto your shoulder and nibbling your ear. You sigh as well and begin to head back to your place in line, but before you go Sonia smiles again at you, so simple and sweet that you think you have the motivation to go through with this. You get strange looks from several people when they spot the Dark Gods, but you ignore them. They squeak in harmony happily, and you take your spot in line, disregarding the stares. The graduates around you fidget nervously as the huge building becomes eerily quiet. But then you hear the dreadful and insipidly repetitive melody of _Pomp and Circumstance_ , and you know it’s time to go. 

* * *

As you expected from the rehearsals you’ve been to, the ceremony is long and tedious. Chiaki almost crashes several times during some speeches and performances, but you shake her awake and watch her take another slug of what’s left of her energy drink. You watch with feigned interest as your class officers make speeches and the orchestra and choir perform. You spot Ibuki in the front row of the show choir, and it looks like she couldn’t be more proud of herself. You smile. You’ll have to remember to congratulate her later tonight. 

Despite the seemingly endless ceremony itself, the entire thing gives you a vibe of finality. Just like that strange sense of unity you felt driving here this morning, you feel as if you are part of an entity, like you always have been. Your classmates around you can’t seem to stay still, either bouncing their knees or biting their nails or twiddling their thumbs. All of you share the same emotions right now, for some unexplained reason. You even spot a few of the choir girls and boys hugging each other as they exit the stage; a girl that hugs Ibuki has tears in her eyes. 

The time comes that all of you have been waiting for: the presenting of the diplomas. You can almost hear the excitement buzz through the air. Your closest friends are pretty evenly spread out among the crowd, and the first three rows of brown and white graduates arise from their chairs. First comes Hanamura, who probably slapped your principal on the ass given his look of discomfort. Hanamura laughs, though, and then proceeds to bounce off the stage zealously and get a picture with his mother. 

Not too long after Hanamura, Hajime accepts his diploma. His name is announced and he receives a surprisingly large amount of shouting and applause (probably mostly your friends and some others – you cheered too, after all). Even Chiaki is rooting for him, probably helped out by her energy drink, but you know she always had a soft spot for Hajime. He pauses shaking the hand of the principal and gives the audience an odd look, but for once, he lets himself grin, just a little bit. It makes you smile, too, because he rarely ever looks that happy, and when he does, it’s satisfying. 

Rows of graduates continue to get up. It’s a steady stream and an unexpectedly smooth system that they’ve got going on. Two rows get up at once to line up and go on stage. Graduates names are announced, they cross the stage, and then they leave the stage to get their picture taken. When you look up again you spot Ibuki on stage, and she practically tackles your principal with excitement. She also receives a lot of whooping and hollering (probably fellow choir kids) and, before leaving the stage, she gives the crowd a rock-on sign. 

After her is Koizumi, who gives the principal a nervous but probably firm handshake. You can just barely see her as she gets her picture taken, and, compared to how shaky she looked on stage, she now looks completely in her element. She always was photogenic. While Koizumi gets her photo taken, you finally see Komaeda on the stage. He has to hunch over just a bit to shake the principal’s hand. While he doesn’t get as much applause or noise as other have before him, you hear a particularly loud whoop from some of the boys in the audience (which is odd, because Komaeda always had a way of sticking just with Hajime). It’s nice of them, either way, and Komaeda certainly seems just as surprised as you are. Kuzuryuu is after him, who at first refuses to shake the principal’s hand, but when he does, he must have had a strong grip, because as soon as Kuzuryuu gets his diploma the principal looks incredibly relieved to let go of his hand. He must have stubbornly refused to order a smaller gown because the edges of it seem to be inches from the floor. Somehow he still looks as menacing as he can in it. 

For the next while none of your friends are up on stage receiving their diplomas. You recognize a few names here and there – people you’ve worked with in class once or twice, or faces that made the school newspaper from time to time. But no one from your specific group heads up there. You’re so busy watching the big screen projector of almost-strangers accepting their diplomas that you barely register anything around you. And it isn’t long before your row is being ushered up to the side of the stage. You and Chiaki exchange glances again, and a feeling settles into your gut. You’re nervous – you don’t know _why_ you’re nervous – but you can feel the uneasiness hitting the walls of your stomach, like butterflies in a cage. 

Apparently Chiaki notices, because as you head up to the stage, she turns around more than once to look at you and gives you a relaxed smile. You smile back as best as you can and try to look like you don’t feel like there’s a cauldron of anxiety bubbling up inside you. You aren’t usually this antsy, and you don’t know why, but when your two rows finally reach the side of the stage, Chiaki turns around, just for a moment. She beckons you closer, and when you lean down, she whispers in your ear, “Don’t worry. I did this once at a cosplay contest…all you have to do is smile and act like you’re calm. It isn’t so bad,” she nods at you, and somehow it makes you feel just a little bit better. The two of you shuffle along up the ramp to the stage, and right as she’s about to go, she turns around one more time and holds up her pinky to yours. You do the same, recognizing the gesture from your childhood. She squeezes your finger, yet instead of it seeming like something to keep a promise, it seems like something for stability for the both of you. Her name is called, and just like that you’re alone. You can’t see Chiaki over the amount of presenters and school administrators on the stage. The large bouquets of flowers block her face, and you walk to the edge of the stage, just like your rehearsals. 

They call your name; it echoes throughout the building, and you get applause. Gratuitous, _loud_ applause. 

It isn’t even as impressive as some of the others before you, but something about the fact that it’s you now, that it’s your turn, it feels louder and more impactful than before. You expected a bit of cheering, having won prom queen last year, but you didn’t expect it to have such an overwhelming impression on you that you’d have to remind yourself to begin walking forward. You can hear some individuals cheering; for instance, you can hear Akane whooping in the line, and you can hear several others in the crowd. You finally get that handshake from the principal you’ve been watching now for almost twenty minutes, and it’s warm and sweaty and kind of gross. But more importantly he hands you your diploma, a heavy piece of paper inside a leatherback case inside an envelope. Your father is waiting with his camera in his hands by the other side of the stage, and it looks like he has tears in his eyes. 

To be honest, it’s almost everything you expected. It’s kind of unusual, because all of the _other_ things that you usually have heard about (like prom or standardized testing) have not been all the hype that they get. But this almost, just _almost_ fits into your vision of what this day would always be like. It’s not only relaxing, but thrilling, because now you finally have something from high school that you can say was just like you always heard about. 

As you descend from the stage and get your picture taken, you spot Gundam in the crowd, watching you walk. He looks at you, and for the most fleeting of moments, he smiles. Just after that his row and another get taken up to go to the stage, and you feel _incredibly_ blessed, because now the day really is everything you expected from it. 

In contrast to before you received your diploma, where everything was incredibly detailed and noteworthy, you feel like everything is blurry when you walk back to your seat. Several of your relatives snipe pictures of you while you walk back, and you laugh, almost nervously, because the climax of it all is over, and you just have a little more to go, and then you’ll be out into the real world. You sit back down next to Chiaki, who seems on the verge of another crash. She’s staring at the envelope in her hands, weighing it out, as if she can’t believe it’s real. You think she’ll shrug it off or yawn or something, but she keeps staring at it, and it hits you too. The reality, for her, has set in. She hugs it to her chest preciously and finally looks over at you. 

The remainder of the awarding of diplomas is relatively fuzzy, because reality is still setting in for you, too. Shortly after you sit down you hear whooping from both the audience and the stage, and you know that its Nidai laughing and the remainder of the Senior wrestlers cheering him on. Akane is shortly after, and for some reason, right as she shakes the principal’s hand and gets her diploma, she looks out to the audience and does cartwheels past the rest of the staff and off the stage. You don’t waste much time wondering why she does, because the reason is simple: because she can.

Pekoyama and Saionji follow a little while after the incident with Akane. Neither of them get too loud of applause except for a bit here and there for family (though you do hear Kuzuryuu raise a somewhat reluctant sounding yell for Pekoyama). Souda doesn’t get much applause at all, though you do shout something for politeness sake, and Chiaki does the same. 

It isn’t long after when Gundam takes the stage, and when he does, you and Chiaki both laugh a bit because the principal has an expression that looks like he has never seen Gundam before in his life. They shake hands, firm and strong just like Gundam practiced doing for months when you were growing up. Just as he passes through the line of staff for the rest of the handshakes, you see his four hamsters pop up out of his muffler. When he starts walking down the ramp offstage, he looks at the envelope he holds in both of his hands, and releases a loud and confident laugh that almost matches the volume of Nidai’s. It almost covers up the sound of the next name being announced. He makes his way back to his seat in long, self-assured steps, as if that piece of paper in his hand has changed who he is as a person. And maybe it did, who knows? You certainly feel different with yours resting in your lap. 

Togami accepts his diploma with practiced poise and ease, and Tsumiki, in contrast, trips both going up and down the ramp. She luckily prevents herself from falling completely into an embarrassing pose, and after her, the diploma presentation doesn’t last much longer. When the last diploma is presented, you can almost hear a collective sigh of relief from all of your fellow graduates in the room. 

All of you participate in the tassel ceremony and toss your caps into the air, and then it’s over. It’s finally over. To your surprise, you turn to your right and Chiaki hugs you, almost in a crushing grip. She holds on to you tight and you laugh but hold on just as hard. You’re emotionally exhausted from the entire hype of all of it, but the phrase keeps repeating in your head. _It’s finally over._

* * *

You feel invincible. This meaningless piece of paper feels like a sealed contract of freedom with the world, and it’s resting in your hands. There is a sort of adrenaline running through your veins that makes you feel unstoppable. You manage to find Sonia after the ceremony is over, talking to a couple of adults, and she turns around and spots you, too. A grin spreads across her face, and just as she begins to speak, you take longer strides to meet her and you cup her face to kiss her. 

She’s surprised, and you’re sort of surprised, too. But you feel so powerful, so unbeatable that you could do anything you wanted to. You start by doing the thing that you’ve wanted to do all day now, which is just to be with her. When you kiss her, Sonia responds after a moment, grinning into it and wrapping her arms around you. You kiss her again, and again, and again, until between them she’s giggling and laughing and saying, “Gundam, Gundam, stop, hold on,” and when you look at her she’s smiling amusedly. She’s so warm and full of life and bubbly and you’re just glad she’s in your arms. 

That is, you’re glad until you notice that most of her family is standing right behind her, and all of them are looking at you. A loud blush creeps from your neck to the tips of your ears and you quickly let her go, but she just smiles at all of them and links arms with you. You recognize her parents – they look the least alarmed – but there are others you’ve never met, who you can assume to be aunts, uncles, younger and older cousins. “He is my boyfriend,” she clarifies to them all, and it lessens some of the alarm on their faces, though not by much.  

Sonia turns back to you, leaving her family standing around awkwardly trying to get an impression of you. “Did Koizumi tell you about the group photo afterwards?” she asks, fixing her cap as she meets your eyes. 

“No, she has not approached me on this day, at least not yet,” you respond, glancing over to where Koizumi begins to walk out of the building along with Saionji. The two bound along side by side eagerly, and the smaller of the two ends up jumping on Koizumi’s back. You turn your gaze back to Sonia. “However, I do believe my ears overheard the short one mentioning it before returning to where he sat.” 

“Oh, Kuzuryuu? It was his idea.” She hums, the shock of it already passed for her. You raise your eyebrow, but she shrugs with a lopsided smile. “Would you like to attend? It shouldn’t take long.” 

Well, you suppose it couldn’t hurt. After all, when summer is over you’ll all be going relatively separate ways. A good handful of you will be moving to the city to attend college in the fall, but some of you are going out of state, some even out of country. Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama announced several weeks ago that they would be returning to Japan for a year before beginning college, Teruteru has insisted that his talents in the kitchen are required worldwide and that he doesn’t need college yet, and you even believe Ibuki was somehow invited to be the opening act for a popular rock band, and she’d be touring worldwide for several months. “If you would accompany me, I would be honored.” 

Her eyes widen and light up, just as they always do when you’ve agreed to do something with her. She seems excited about it – perhaps a little too much, given as before you head over, she adjusts your honors chord and straightens your tie. Right as you turn to go she leans up and pecks you on the cheek before slipping her hand into yours and happily walking alongside you. 

“Something has you rather cheerful this afternoon,” you comment, glancing down to see her smile widen. “May I inquire as to what that is?” 

“Well, it’s just…” Sonia takes a moment, entwining her fingers a bit firmer with yours. “It is so rare that all of us are brought together like this. Many of us have trouble getting along with one another, so it’s the little things that count. And to be brought together on a day like this!” She nearly jumps with her last sentence, almost bouncing with excitement. “Tonight, as well. I hope everyone will be attending the party…” she trails off, looking up at you, and you look away to lead the both of you outside to where the group is waiting. “You’re going, aren’t you?” 

“Pah,” you scoff, tilting your chin up a bit. “The Almighty Gundam Tanaka has no need of such activities.” But then she stops dead, almost jerking you backwards with the sheer force of her grip. It surprises you and you jolt to a stop alongside her. Instead of complaining, she slips her hand out of yours and rests them on her hips. 

“Gundam,” she murmurs, somewhere between scolding and condescending, “remember when I mentioned that it is very rare that all of us come together? That includes you, you know.” You’re about to protest, as she knows you really aren’t one for parties, but she cuts you off before you can speak. “I am aware that you don’t always like to attend these sorts of things, but…tonight is special. It’s the beginning of something, I know it.” 

When she looks at you, you almost feel bad for even thinking of _not_ going. The fact still stands that while you’ve always desired to have friends and be with them, going out and being out sometimes makes you uncomfortable. But she seems sincere in her request, and you’re already on your way to participate in the picture anyways. With a sigh, you relent, “I suppose the night out couldn’t hurt.” 

Sonia seems to brighten up again almost immediately, slipping her hand back into yours. “That would be lovely. I’m excited!” And the two of you walk out of the building together to meet a group of students in brown and white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter. i hadnt originally planned to divide this into two chapters, but it was literally so long that i had no choice lmao. the whole graduation is twenty seven pages. so i split it up. now i havent graduated yet (lol) but i've been to plenty of ceremonies to know what the deal is. theyre hectic as all get out. hellish. awful. and sweaty. really sweaty. 
> 
> gundam would be the kind of guy to get random bursts of courage and regret them IMMEDIATELY. and then he doesnt work up the courage for something for another two months
> 
> (NANAMI'S OLDER BROTHER IS CHIHIRO FIGHT ME)
> 
> edit: this is kind of accurate now that I've graduated myself thank goodness. my family brought in an airhorn and used it when i walked across the stage and it was confiscated but like. what are you gonna do? it was great


	13. Chapter 13

After finishing the photos with Gundam and the rest of the group, you all parted ways and agreed to meet at the party around eight. You have plenty of time to rest because most of the actual graduation parties don’t begin until next weekend. No one is holding theirs today, because who would be foolish enough to hold a graduation party on the day of graduation? No one you know, thankfully. 

Your graduation party isn’t for another week or so, but with all of the adults coming and going through your house, today might as well be your graduation party. They all file into your house and after a while of guessing who is new and who isn’t, you decide to stand at the door for a while until the traffic calms down. They all shake your hand or hug you or pat you on the back. Some of them have small children with them, all varying in ages, claiming that they’re your second or third cousins or some other distant relative you haven’t heard from in years.   

By the time things have quieted down a bit – babies are asleep, children are playing in the backyard, adults are all chatting over coffee – it’s around two thirty, maybe a quarter to three. Even though the constant flow of people into your house has altogether stopped, you are obliged to go around and say at least a few polite words to your relatives. You accept several smaller gifts from people who will not be able to attend your actual graduation party (gift cards, cash, the like). It isn’t until three thirty when you finally excuse yourself away from everyone in order to head upstairs and change out of your gown. 

The next thing you know, your mother is gently shaking your shoulder, looking down at you from where you lay on your bed. “Sonia,” she coos gently, and you can hear the smile in her voice, “Sonia, it’s almost six. People are beginning to leave and would like to say goodbye.” Begrudgingly, you sit up with a grumble, glaring at the clock beside your bed. 

“What…? There’s no way…” you cut off your sentence with a yawn, wiping your eyes and fanning your face, “…no way it’s almost six.” But the clock is right there, and it doesn’t appear to be lying, and neither does your mother. When you glance down you realize with a bit of embarrassment that you’re still in your graduation gown. 

After a few goodbyes (and a few explanations about why you haven’t changed yet), you kiss both your parents on the cheek and rush back upstairs. Ibuki’s party begins at eight, and you’ve yet to shower or change. With all of that, picking up Gundam, and the long drive to her house, you’ve barely got enough time to make it. But you swiftly strip once you make it to your bathroom and try to have both a relaxing and quick shower (which, you learn, is quite difficult).  

While you get dressed and get your makeup and hair done, you can’t seem to stop smiling. Not only is this the day you finally graduated paired along with a party that has supposedly been in the works for a month, but tonight you are giving Gundam his graduation present from you. It took you a while to pull together, but you’re so excited you can hardly contain yourself. You safely tuck the envelope with his gift inside of your purse and are careful to make sure it won’t bend. For months, ever since the idea popped into your head, you’ve been unable to contain yourself whenever you thought of his reaction. After tonight you won’t have to settle with imagining it any longer. 

* * *

Half past seven, you meet Sonia on the sidewalk in front of her house. She appears to be a bit rushed – when you get closer, you see the tips of her hair is still wet – but she’s smiling so big and so wide that you can’t help but feel eased by her presence. “Are you ready?” she asks, but she barely gives you any time to reply before jingling her keys loudly to serve as your response. Before she can get in the driver’s seat, you offer to drive, and while you expect her to protest she swiftly tosses you her keychain before slipping into the passenger’s seat. 

She can’t seem to stop fidgeting, so when you pull up to a red light you turn to her and ask with amusement in your voice, “Is something the matter?” When she turns to you, she looks almost surprised that you said something to her. When no reply comes, you go on, “You seem to be quite unable to keep still.” 

“Oh,” Sonia hums, and then she laughs, musically, more alive than normal. “I’m not sure. I think…I suppose I’m just happy. What with graduating and everything. It’s almost liberating.” She sighs and gazes out the window, and you can see her smile from your periphery. The remainder of the ride is silent, save for a quiet humdrum of music in the car and the beat of Sonia’s hands against her purse. 

Ibuki’s house is very reminiscent of the theatre party you visited with Sonia, except this time you don’t feel a heavy sense of dread looming over you. You arrive just a bit after eight, just when other cars are beginning to fill the drive and the street around it. You park next to her mailbox and Sonia hops out of the car almost before you can take the keys out of the ignition. There’s a sign on her front door that reads that the party is in the backyard and the basement, so Sonia wastes no time and grabs your hand to lead you around the house into the yard. 

“You’re quite –” you take a breath as you try to search for the right word while catching up with her, “– _eager_ on this night, princess. Is there a reason for these actions?” But she ignores you, almost deliberately, you feel. However, Sonia isn’t one for keeping secrets, especially from you, so you think that whatever has her so wired will be revealed in due time. 

People are settling in in Ibuki’s backyard, talking leisurely amongst groups of two or three. Ibuki is well known for throwing amazing parties of catastrophic proportion, yet tonight she promised it would only be the sixteen of you. Half of the group is in the yard, leaving the other half most likely in the basement. It almost makes her yard seem even bigger because of the space in between pairs of people. You spot Nidai talking with Hinata and Hanamura, and he waves you over. Just as you’re about to slip your hand out of Sonia’s (and she seems to notice, too), she squeezes you gently and says, “Just a moment. Before that, would you explore with me? I haven’t been to Ibuki’s house before.” 

“I had journeyed here, once,” you admit, and she lets you go as you begin to head inside. “In the earlier days of my youth for a geography project, I visited this abode to work with the songful one, alongside Miss Nanami.” 

Together, you head down the stairs and into Ibuki’s basement, where the other half of the people are hanging about, including Ibuki herself. There are three long tables filled to the brim with snacks, ranging from fruits and vegetables paired with dips to boxes of pizza and plates of cookies. The table in the middle is stocked with different drinks: sodas, punches, flavored waters, and anything else anyone could possibly want. You see plenty of people walking around with plates (Togami is busy piling several plates high while Ibuki tries to climb on his back), yet it hardly looks like a dent has been made in any of the massive amounts of food.  

“Wo-ow,” Sonia drawls, just looking over the tables of food. Her eyes practically glow. Together, the two of you discover a large gaming station set up in the center of the basement. It has a huge flat screen, at least four different consoles wired to it, and Nanami parked right in front of it and slowly drawing the basement crowd to her with her expertise in the fighting game she’s currently beating. Sonia looks over at you and grins, “I believe we may go separate ways for now, if you wish.” She subtly nods her head towards Nanami. 

“As you wish,” you agree. She merely giggles and goes over to talk to her, and you head back over to the snack tables to cautiously grab a soda. As you begin to ascend the stairs, you hear Sonia’s voice telling you to meet back outside around ten. Two hours to yourself. It fills you with a little bit of anxiety, but you somehow forget about that when Nidai welcomes you into his conversation back outside. 

The next two hours you spend are with Nidai, Hanamura, a reluctant Hinata and an even more reluctant Komaeda, once he arrives. The two hours are nothing spectacular, but you cannot complain as these boys make for better company than you anticipated. Hanamura always has a witty yet unsettling response on hand, enough to make anyone uncomfortable, but the way Nidai always laughs it off miraculously makes it bearable. Souda fades in and out of the group sometimes, switching from spending time with your group to trying to impress Tsumiki and Saionji by attempting to do backflips on the trampoline. He fails every time and after falling off once and hurting his back he joins you again, crying about his injury the whole time. 

Ten o’clock rolls around faster than you thought, and a second group comes out of Ibuki’s house, including Sonia, Akane, Nanami, and Ibuki. All of them are glancing in the direction of your group. Akane is the first to split off, nearly tackling Nidai to the ground and making him spill his soda. Nanami joins Hinata and Komaeda with a warm smile, and Ibuki runs back inside to find Togami. That leaves Sonia to find you, and you’re suddenly aware of the sound of your own heartbeat. 

“Guuundam,” she drawls your name, taking your arm and leading you to the other side of Ibuki’s backyard. You head over to a little stone railing overlooking a pond behind Ibuki’s house, and she leans on it while you watch her a bit uneasily. One of her hands lingers on her purse, and you realize you’re about to find out why she’s been so antsy all evening. She doesn’t speak again for a while, just settling her eyes on the view, so you join her in watching the sun collide with the skyline in a soft explosion of yellows and oranges and purples. 

“Tonight has been so lovely,” she says after a while, breaking the silence. You relax a little more at the sound of her voice and lean on the stone with her. “The whole day has been rather lovely, I think. Certainly a day I hope I will not forget anytime soon.” Sonia looks at you in her peripheral and lets the corner of her mouth curl into a smile. 

“I could not agree more,” you nod firmly, looking over at her. 

She then brings her purse onto the stone so she can rifle through it. “Well, I know you’ve noticed that I’ve been a bit excitable tonight,” she thinks aloud, and then stops rifling to grin at you again. “And you are aware that I’m especially bad at keeping secrets. So,” and she pulls out a thick, white envelope, the size of a card, “I am giving you your graduation present today. I could hardly wait this long.” And she puts it in your hand. 

It’s a heavier package than it looks to be. Just by running your thumb across the front of it you can tell that not only was it sealed with care, but something special awaits inside. You can also feel the weight of Sonia’s silent gaze as she waits for you to open it, and somehow her eyes make the anticipation seem stronger. With her watching, you run a finger through the top and tear open the envelope. 

Inside is a cutesy little card that she seems to have made herself. On the front is a drawing of the Four Dark Gods of Destruction (colored brightly and carefully with colored pencil), and there’s a cartoony speech bubble that says “Happy Graduation”. When you open the card two slips of tough paper almost flutter out, and you’re about to look at them when she taps your hand and says, “Finish the card first.” So you read what she’s written in her elegant cursive writing.  

_We finally did it, Gundam!! It has been more than an entire decade since we met and began this journey together through our education, and now it has finally ended. But this is only the beginning! I am so excited to see what your future holds – I know you will be great! I love you, Sonia_

You can see her grin as your eyes scan the words. You can’t help but quirk a quick smile as you read it, because the whole premise is just so ­ _her_ ; a homemade card with a heartfelt message written in purple glitter ink. “Thank you, My Lady Sonia,” you finally say, looking up at her. 

Sonia taps your left hand that holds the two papers that tumbled out of her card. “ _Now_ you can look at those.” But she doesn’t once stop grinning, and you’re nervous all over again. 

You quickly turn them over in your hand to get it over with, and right away when you see what they are your jaw drops. 

Tickets. Two tickets. Two tickets to – oh God. Sonia giggles, sheepishly and bubbly at the same time. “I have had them on reserve for months. They were expensive, but…extremely worth it, I hope. You told me how much you adored the show, and I did promise we could go to see it one day.” 

Your hands begin to shake as you stare at the two tickets to a showing for _Phantom of the Opera_ for next month. You feel as if an Angel has descended from the pearly gates of Heaven and has kicked you so hard in the stomach that the wind has been taken from your lungs. “Sonia,” you manage to gasp, mouth still agape, but she just smiles as if she hasn’t just given you possibly the best gift anyone has and will ever receive. 

Without thinking, you take her hands, and you startle her for a second, but she seems to relax quickly. “This,” you begin, and you’re careful not to bend the tickets, “this is the greatest blessing anyone has ever given me. I will make sure to repay you for this. In any way, shape, or form that you may see fit. Gundam Tanaka always pays his debts.” 

But she laughs again and kisses you chastely. “Gundam, you don’t have to repay me. It is simply a gift. A gift that I wouldn’t want to take back for anything.” 

For a moment, when you look at her, you feel yet another swell of confidence. She is excellent at giving you those. And for another brief moment, you could maybe picture yourself in several years, possibly putting your favorite silver ring in a small velvet box and asking for her hand, just as a possibility. You see a beautiful, wide, expansive future with her, full of different experiences and people and places you’d never imagined before this night. And while the thought of putting a ring on her finger frightens you, it gives you the same swell of confidence you get when you look at her. 

You aren’t sure that things have ever felt this simple and clear to you in all of your eighteen years of life. It’s as if the mist has lifted and you can see the bright, clear walkway of your future – not just your future, but hers as well. And you would never say this aloud, simply because it seems cliché, but things have never seemed as perfect as they do right in this moment. You kiss her again.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for sticking with me for all of this!! six. months. and the longest fic i've ever written. though the ending was stupid cheesy i had it in my head and well, once i have something in my head i have to go through with it. 
> 
> though this fic is over, as you may have noticed by now this work is part of a series. so yes there is a sequel if you're willing to stick around for literally fluff at this point. i just finished writing it actually lol so for now i am definitely on an sdr2 break. but thank you so much for reading!! nearly 2k hits, and still coming. i hope you'll all read the next one too!


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